It didn’t take him very long to realize something wasn’t right. The address she’d given him wasn’t for a restaurant, but a private home. Anya answered the door almost immediately.
“Simon! You made it!” She was just as beautiful as her profile pic, if not more. “Make yourself comfortable.” She scurried back to the kitchen.
A framed photo caught his eye. The chubby, sad girl behind the glass somehow familiar. They’d gone to school together. He reddened, remembering how he’d treated her.
“I figured you wouldn’t recognize me.” Anya stood in the doorway.
“Why have me come here?”
“Are you really asking that?”
Simon looked down at his shoes, high school memories rushing over him.
“I’m sorry, Anya. I really am.”
“I have to go.”
Later, she opened her high school yearbook and drew a dark line through Simon’s photo.
“Five down, five to go,” she whispered.
Written for the Miniature Writing Challenge