It was the flag ceremony, and the nuns made us carry our bags to move our line. I bent down and grabbed my bag on the cement - and met your face when I straightened up. You then laid a hand on my shoulder and asked what to you was a heavy question, "Who am I to you?"
I can't help but chuckle everytime I remember how I gave it some thought before I answered your full name. I was puzzled with your question, and you were just as much puzzled with my answer. I shrugged and walked away and never gave it much thought.
I didn't know that we'd become the best of friends. But now that I look back, maybe there was something more to the I love you's we used to exchange, to the kisses we shouldn't have had. You'd probably deny it if I asked you. Okay then, I'll follow.
Maybe there's a reason why even the best of friends fall apart sometimes. Maybe it's love.
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