It was recess back in grade 8. You and your boy best friend, Zeke, had just finished munching on your snacks in the school courtyard. The sun was warm, and laughter floated through the air as kids played all around you.

Bored and playful, you grabbed a pen and decided to doodle on Zeke’s wrist. You drew a little guitar—simple, yet cool—surrounded by a few quirky doodles. Zeke chuckled, nudging you gently, and you both laughed at how silly and carefree you felt in that moment.

Years passed, and life moved on. By senior year, Zeke transferred to another school, and after graduation, you both drifted apart without much contact. Now, here you were, standing in line for your college entrance exam, clutching your papers tightly. Your heart pounded with nerves and anticipation.

Then, you caught a glimpse of someone familiar standing beside you. It was Zeke. His hair was longer, and there was a confident edge to him you hadn’t seen before. You noticed his arms, now adorned with tattoos—artwork that told stories you wished you could hear.

Your eyes drifted to his wrist—and your breath caught. There, inked permanently on his skin, was the very guitar you had drawn all those years ago, surrounded by more intricate designs. Your smile grew wide, mixing surprise with a wave of warmth.

Zeke glanced at you, his expression shifting from curiosity to recognition. A slow grin spread across his face.

“You remember,” he said softly.