Chapter 4: For Auld Lang Syne (Revised)

We settled in the living room.

“It is a hot day, very, very hot day,” said I, wiping sweat.

“Yeah. Think about it. I have to redo my makeup,” complained Hannah.

I flipped through the TV channels to find something intriguing enough to watch or just, to relive.

“Oh great, I have to redo my eyeliner!” Hannah complained while I was just flipping through channels and came upon an old film channel.

“What’s that?”, asked Hannah.

“Uh, I think it’s Waterloo Bridge. Back to 1940!” I chuckled.

“1940?! Ugh, boring.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I do have a story.”

Hannah frowned, “A story?”

“Yeah, a very good one I might say.”

I sip my coke, “Well, let us imagine a man at the bridge alone with just a pendant of his family.”

Hannah quirked her eyebrows, “And?”

“Just look at the waters, it flows and never returns.”

“Uhuh”

“What was your happiest time, Hannah?”

She smirked, “Well, it was a time when my bestie, Monica, and I won a band competition. We were immensely determined to get that trophy. Mon and I got it, with our sweat and determination no less.”

I smiled, “What was your saddest time?”

She sighed, “It was when my grandma passed away. You see, she looked through my gothic facade which everyone around me labelled me without a care as ‘antisocial’. How hypocritical huh? One dresses like a business man but with an unscrupulous intention.”

I smiled understandingly, “Well, I see. People are deeper than we thought, than we perceived, than we ever researched. I liked to think to myself ‘How can someone be so sympathetic to others without even thinking? How can someone lack sympathy? Have you ever suffered like we did?” I chuckled, “Just look at that man we’ve imagined Hannah. He lost his daughter, oh poor daughter at the age of three. What could this man and his wife do? Yes, they cried; they grieved. Life has to move on, nonetheless. The man and his wife lived for a decade when his wife died. What could the man do? He cried; he grieved. He was left alone. All of his family were gone, leaving him in the world of passing people.”

Hannah just listened.

“Just to see the water in the river flowing away from him. He just realized. Those old times, good or bad, had to be remembered, engraved, even if they had passed away. He had his life, just drank a cup of kindness, and moved on with his life. Memories won’t fade; memories are friends, real friends who suffered and reveled in the world.”

Hannah shrugged, “Sounds like that.” She smirked. “Well, what shall we do now?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Any ideas?”

***

“Wow, this looks great,” I said sarcastically as I looked into the mirror after the salon session.

Hannah had one free voucher for every treatment and she wanted to treat me.

“I do look like a librarian from the 1940s.”

Snap!, “Well, this must be recorded!”, squealed Hannah.

I looked at my hair. It was a half up half down look. My top hair was rolled and swept away from my forehead to the right side. The sides of my hair were pulled smoothly above the ears to keep the hair neat and away from the face. The remaining hair fell down onto my back shoulder in soft natural curls and waves, typical for the 1940s.

I put on my silver rimmed glasses and adjusted my newly acquired shirtwaist dress.

“Well, what do I look?” I smirked.

“Fantastisch!” Hannah snapped more pictures as I posed for her.

I wore a flat and we sauntered out of the salon into a bustling mall in the evening. The crowds seemed not to care about us and that was great. We could do whatever we wanted in this mall with our own passion.
We strode past an old bookstore and saw the reflection of myself. Oh my Diane. Be ever and ever in my memories. Never fades.

We entered the book store and the owner greeted us, “Hey kiddos! You're like you’re from the 1940s and you [Hannah] clashed with her entirely.” He smirked.

I saw a copy of Mark Twain: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. “Oh is that a copy from ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’?”

The shop owner smiled, “Yeah kiddo, it’s never been sold out for people were looking past how much the values it contains.”

I smiled, “And how much can we negotiate?”

“Um, I’ll give you for free as a souvenir. Do you want to write something on the title page?”

I grabbed his pen without any hesitation and wrote on the right side of the title page.

"Dear Cheryl —
Remember every memory is worth keeping
Notwithstanding how grievous or euphoric they are.
Thanks for the memories!
Love
Cheryl"

“I guess sometimes people just need a blink of a good time,” I smiled as I received the book from the shop owner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eve
23/10/2026