Is it OK? Should we do it one more time? I’d turned at once to catch a glimpse of her. But when I did, I saw she wasn’t there anymore. She’d left. Even today, when I’m at a bend, I turn around once and see. I often see many like her. Yet not one who looks like how she would. Maybe I hadn’t seen her back then. Or maybe I’ll never see her again. Or maybe I just like the act of turning around. And finding her or not,
is but an excuse.