Classmate

Memories

It was Tuesday, and I was carrying an LCD projector, my black bag and some files over my left shoulders while I zoomed down of Block C in the elevator. I stepped out of the Plaza Mont Kiara, into the blazing sun, while my colleague hobbled behind me.

"I need to smoke!" he yelled. Apparently, sitting through a two hour seminar with no smoke break can kill a smoker.

While my collegue lit up, I sat on a wooden chair by Haagen Daz, contemplating whether to eat some ice-cream. As I stood up to go to the counter, a pretty Chinese girl popped infront of me and asked, "Were you in my English class?"

I looked at her blankly. I did not know who she was, and English class?

"You were in my English class in Uniten, weren't you" she said, touching her shoulders hinting how awkward if I could not remember that.

"Oh yes! Yes, we went to the same English class..." Blink blink.

Seriously, I can't remember her. But it was amazing how she remembered me, vividly. She described how I would always come in class 10 minutes late, and how the English lecturer would always say, "You were riding the donkey, weren't you?" to me. Apparently, everyone knew that the donkey was my red Volvo.

As we exchanged name cards and waved goodbye, I could not help but feel somewhat special that someone, who I barely knew, remembered me.