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"I kind of recognise you, Sir, but I can't remember exactly who you are," I replied. "Oh come on Sara! It's me, Sanji!" "Sanji?!" I exclaimed. It was him! Sanji! I had disconnected him all those years ago, and now, here he was standing in front of me! "Come inside, Sanji!" I was almost shouting. I felt such joy – I couldn't believe my luck! I mean, I thought that he was probably dead! Soon, I made tea for the both of us, and we settled down. He was obviously much older, but he had aged with absolute grace. He wasn't haggard or undignified looking – like so many old people. "Sara," Sanji said, how could you?" "How could I what?" I replied. "How could you cut me off, as if I was of no value to you? Do you remember all those years we were friends? And then you cut me off, when you joined those lunatic leftist movements? And then you came back to me, when you stayed in my house all those years? And, then, you decide to cut me off again when you became rich at the Psychiatry Department? Why, Sara?" "Well, I don't know Sanji, my dear, it's been over twenty years ago," I said, feeling his words to be really offensive. "Twenty seven years to be precise! Did I deserve that?" "No, of course not, Sanji, but you know, when you're married with children and you have a job, most people tend to separate," I said angrily, “and the, did you come here to interrogate me?” "No, of course not, dear Sara. Don’t get angry! My God, your temper hasn’t relaxed in all those decades!” “Thank you,” I said coldly, feeling I got back the respect I deserved. Silence. “I think some respect is called for,” I said coldly. “Yes, of course, I guess you're right,” continued Sanji, “friends to tend to die off, once you get married, have kids and get a job. You're right," the old gentleman said. He was humbled! Actually, he was right.