“Remember me ?” I said.
The shop belonged to my college friend.
He settled down in our village and took over the management of his father’s grocery store.
I left for distant shores.
Over the years, we hardly kept in touch.
Streaks of grey hair and a potbelly aside, he had not changed much.
It took him a second to recognize me.
“Welcome back!” he said.
We swapped stories that we missed sharing over the years.

“One kilo of basmati rice!”
That voice sounded familiar.
She recognised both of us and smiled.
On her way out, she flashed another smile at us.
“She married a doctor and has three kids now. The eldest one is married,” my friend said.
“Remember how we always used to jump on to the bus she travelled in?” I said.
Those memories made us both laugh.
Yes! It felt good to be back home.