The weekend was a disaster and crushed my hopes of having anything lasting with April. I was dislocated, surrounded by thrashing, immature, privileged collegiate cry babies who were tripping over themselves trying to look important. April was wasted the whole weekend. I suspected when I left that that was the last time I would see her.

We continued writing but her life sounded increasingly hollow. She graduated, chose Ethan to be her "permanent" plaything and married him. April, with help from her dad, entered the mobile phone industry near its inception. She advanced quickly and made mountains of money. She sent postcards from all over the world describing the current business trip or vacation, always with Ethan. Ethan worked selling preprinted computer forms, probably well in over his head.

The postcards and letters ceased. April Meier slipped into my past, like so many others.