I was crouching by my bag and fiddling with something in it when I first saw Anne approaching. We were in a crowded airport lounge. She was rushing toward me with a mock scowl, as though to say that it was my fault that we have lost contact for so many years. Her face was tanned, but she was otherwise the same as I remembered her some fifteen years ago. She wore pants and a tight waste-length jacket. Her hair came down to her shoulders. Not completely sure that she was looking at me, for I felt I had changed a lot in this period, I looked behind me, but saw no-one she could be looking at. “Perhaps she already met Lauren someplace in the lounge?” I thought, wondering whether they had known each other at MIT. Their studies in the Architecture Department must have overlapped by a few years, I realized. She was closer and closer, still making huge strides. Now it was clear she was looking at me. I feverishly repeated her name under my breath, trying to remember her family name: “Anne? Anne? Anne?” I woke up before either of us spoke. More important, I woke up before I remembered her full name. I still do not remember it. I was enchanted with her back in the mid-1980s, but nothing had ever happened between us.