Recognition was instant.
They stared at each other, but neither flinched, as bygone memories of romance stirred.
Two squirming seconds of uninvited, unexpected, emotional trauma elapsed. Both were fascinated by the vision that greeted them, and so they held their gaze.
Thirty-three years had passed since the age of puppy love, when their desperate, love-starved, teenaged lips, had entwined for the first time.
Rachel’s husband and her two grown-up children walked by her side, oblivious to the dramatic love scene being played out in front of them.
Secretly, she asked herself that burning, unanswered question, which eats at the soul, and had haunted her for a lifetime.
“Does first love ever die?”
