She locks the door to her room. Silence is what greets her. She flicks on the light switch and blinked, “Too bright” she thought. But she needed the light to see. Which was a sad fact.
She dragged herself to her table, sat down, got a piece of paper and a pencil.
She tapped the eraser part of the pencil on the table and bit her lip. She was thinking of how to phrase another statement like this. And with that thought her eyes watered, but she’s used to it now so it doesn’t bother her as much.
She put the tip of her pencil on her paper and began to write:
I’m losing you. I can feel it.
You are slipping from my grasp; you are untangling yourself from my ropes.
You are about to leave me. I know.
And I’m scared.
Here’s a thought.
Let me say my goodbye now.
Because I’m sure I’ll shed tears equivalent to waterfalls when you leave.
She paused for a moment, wondering if she should write it.
I love you.
She wrote it.
She folded the piece of paper into a square and wrote on it
My best friend.
She opened her drawer and the bottom left of the table, got out a brown box that said “To the letters and thoughts.”
She opened it and stared at the organised pile of papers, all stacked neatly. Each paper had a different label to it: “Seatmate” “Teacher” “Counselor” “Parent” “Sister”.
She got the piece of paper on her desk and neatly put it on one side, isolating it from the rest.
She then put the lid back on the box, placed it in the drawer and closed it shut.
She straightened up afterwards and looked at the photo on the table.
And then she let the tears fall.