The Veríssimo Project

They bumped into each other, after thirty years, at a party. She smiled and said, "How are you?"
-You two know each other? asked the host.
He did not say, "We do know each other. In the biblical sense, in fact. She was the love of my life. I almost killed myself over her. I could drop dead right now. Oh, life, life."
He said:
-Yup.
-It's been ages, huh? she said.
He sat down next to her. He was overcome with emotion. He could barely say the words:
-Thirty years...
-Yeah, no kidding. I feel like an old lady.
And she added:
-Senile.
Funny. She had put on weight, of course. She had wrinkles. But what had really changed was her voice. Or had her voice always been like that? Impossible. He remembered everything about her. Everything. She was the love of his life. She was poking his arm.
-So, you're...
-What ever happened to you? I mean...
-Tell me about it. I'm a grandmother, did you know that?
-No!
He hadn't managed to hide the horror in his voice. But she took it as a compliment. She yelled, "Harold!", calling her husband who walked over with a smile on his face. She introduced him, "This is an old friend..." But she didn't say his name. My God, she forgot my name! She said to her husband:
-Show her a picture of little Gustavo.
And to him:
-You've gotta see how cute my grandson is.
Harold grabbed his wallet. She forgot my name. And I remember everything! The appendix scar. The apartment on Andre da Rocha. "I'll always love you!" Everything!
Harold took the picture out of his wallet. He took the picture. Little Gustavo looked at the camera through frightened eyes.
-Isn't he cute? she asked.
He gave Harold the picture and said:
-No.
-What do you mean, "No"?
-I don't think he's cute.
And he went off to find a glass of whiskey.