As a young schoolgirl she wasn’t what you’d call a looker.
She was tall and gangly with a pale complexion and pimples. In her final year she managed to attract the attention of one of the boys in her class. It only lasted a couple of weeks, meeting up outside the cinema a couple of times. Then it just died and within a few months they all left school to go their separate ways. It would be ten years or more before the boy in question caught up with one of his old school mates, quite by chance. The old school mate had never seen him as a friend; he’d always found him a swaggerer, maybe just a bit too full of himself. Anyway, for old times’ sake they agreed to go for a coffee and do a bit of reminiscing. They talked about their old teachers, good and bad, and eventually about some of their old class mates and what they were doing now.
When asked about his former girlfriend, he said he remembered her. He smirked and said he’d got shot of her like getting rid of a garden weed. The other, being mindful of how people can change as they grow older, was also aware of her relocation to America where she was now one of the top models for New York’s fashion industry. The woman in question, now in her mid-twenties, was a real beauty. She was, in that country at least, the talk of the town. The fact was, she had changed her name for her new profession and was now living in a world of glamour. The former boyfriend was obviously not aware of any of this. He had no idea that the garden weed had bloomed into a gorgeous lotus flower.
His old classmate, blessed with a kinder heart, decided not to tell him.