Thirty years ago, this girl fell for this boy. Everyone thought--as they did then--that this was the stuff of Mills and Boon. That the girl and the boy would gallop off into the sunset to the tune of "We've Only Just Begun..."
Alas, things weren't meant to be. A few days after the girl asked the boy to have her cassette repaired, some other girl, in a classic case of "pikot," seduced the boy. To cut a convoluted story short, the boy married the other girl, leaving the girlfriend in tears and without her precious cassette.
But as young loves go, this one was soon forgotten. The girl upped and married, and happily, too. For a time, it looked as though the love story of 30 years ago never happened.
And then, their paths crossed again. For the boy, it was a case of moonlights and moon-glazed looks all over again. Not so for the girl. Having spent the past thirty years plodding through life in commas and semi-colons, she wasn't ready to forgive just yet. And the very first thing that came out of her mouth when they saw each other again?
"@#$%@*&()_^%! Give me back my cassette."
Closure, it seems, is the handsome new component that now sits proudly in the girl's living room.