At a long-overdue reunion of three college classmates, I unexpectedly realized that my memories had been quietly drifting out of sync.
Those moments that kept surfacing in my mind: I couldn’t tell whether they had really happened as I remembered them, or whether, over the years, I had gradually made them more beautiful in my mind. Especially all the little moments involving those girls.
After all, the moment I had remembered for so many years was, to someone else, no more than a passing glance.
