“Let’s do this again,” he said, walking me to my car. “My ten-year reunion’s coming up this weekend, but maybe we could do something next weekend?” I did the math. Ten-year COLLEGE reunion? That would make him thirty-two. Maybe thirty-five, if he got a graduate degree. Or ten-year HIGH SCHOOL reunion? He’d only be twenty-eight. I ran the numbers over and over in my head. Best case scenario, he’s only a few years younger. Worst case, twelve. I could’ve been his babysitter!