Reply to a Facebook post, 3:40am, 4/5/2020, to a girl I loved for 9 months, 23 years ago

“’plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose,’ right? My French sucks, but I will always remember you as the prettiest girl in Europe… and I remember the night when little Dave got beat up on the bus, and he yelled up at your window, and then we went to the hospital with him because he shouldn’t have gone alone, and it sounded like maybe someone died in the other room, and Dave held your hand, and we were all a bit scared. And your friend from Manchester might have been right, that you were a bit too good for me, but she was biased, and I loved you then, I even came and slept on the floor in your room just to be near you, I was far from home after all… so yeah I remember those days, and I’ll probably never see you again. And I probably never said thank you, for loving me (at least a little bit) for those nine months in Wales. I’m so glad that your family looks happy, and one time your Dad made me a ham and cheese sandwich, and he put butter on it and I thought, how strange, but I ate it anyway, and it was actually pretty good, all things considered. ❤️”