During the last evening study hall before our college entrance exams, she leaned on the windowsill, pointed at the moon, and said,
"On graduation day, let's go see the stars at the beach. Just the two of us."
"What are you spacing out for?"
She dropped her hands and skipped over to spin in front of me.
Beneath the cool Moonlight, she was still in that impossibly simple, plain white dress. The sea breeze teased the ends of her hair, and she even wore the same light-blue tie I'd given her all those years ago.
Without me noticing, she'd snatched the photo from my hand. She held it up, waving it teasingly as she stepped barefoot into the frigid seawater. The surf instantly washed over her ankles.
"You're the one who promised to teach me how to find the Big Dipper, oh, Mr. To~p~Stu~dent~"
I scrambled to raise the camera and follow her, the lens shaking violently.
The sea breeze lifted the hem of her dress, making it look like a butterfly about to take wing.
