I remembered her the moment I saw her fangs. I remembered her because I had once seen her in the dentist's office. I remembered because I distinctly remembered those sharp fangs that would make her the ultimate vampire. She had sharp, little fangs. Then, at the clinic, I asked her about her fangs and she said she'd had them since birth. Her answer made me laugh, but she was too serious for me to continue laughing. She was a child then. Just a girl who didn't know anything about life yet. And then, I told her, she looked like a vampire. I thought she was pleased by that compliment. She smiled and when her mother came back, she shook my hand like an adult and walked away.
Now looking at her I remembered her.
"So?" she asked, taking a seat opposite me.
"I remember you. We saw each other at the dentist's office. You were just a child then. But how can you remember me? You were about six or seven years old."
