When we were young

When I was ten, I had been attending a Korean elementary school in Seoul for two years and was hating every minute of it. That year I decided it was best not to talk to anyone at school (they didn't speak English, they didn't know who Judy Blume was, and I couldn't understand what they were talking about) and for the most part I think I didn't. Except for one person - the boy sitting at my desk with me. Korean schools pair you up, generally according to your height, with someone of the opposite sex. This boy was quiet, so I think that's why I occasionally talked to him. I remember bringing in Twix bars to share with him a couple of times. He was also a bit of a whiz kid, and had perfect handwriting and grades, while I was one of the dunces. That was one year, and I forgot about him.

When I was twenty four, someone brought the now grown-up boy to a dinner in Hong Kong. I instantly recognised him - he had the same quietness and the glasses. He didn't remember me at first, then all of a sudden he said,
"J-A! But you were so quiet back then! Now you really talk!"
I've moved around so much, it was a shock to have someone other than my family remind me of how I was as a child. It was a surprise to him also when I told him what I remembered him to be like. We laughed about it and became friends again.

Now we are once again worlds apart: he works in Korea and I am here. But today he's in Manhattan, so I can say something I would not otherwise be able to say here, being such a recent transplant to the city.
"I'm meeting an old friend for lunch."