There was this bench at my school, under a big neem tree — me and my closest friend used to sit there every day at lunch. We talked about everything, from silly jokes to big dreams. It felt like nothing could ever change that.
Then one day, out of nowhere, she was gone. A sudden accident took her away. Just like that, the laughter stopped, and the bench felt empty in a way words can’t explain.
For weeks, I avoided that spot. It hurt too much. But eventually, I went back — not to fill the space she left, but to hold onto the moments we shared.
Years later, I still think about her when I pass that bench. It taught me something no class ever did: some losses don’t leave you — they live inside you, shaping who you become.
Then one day, out of nowhere, she was gone. A sudden accident took her away. Just like that, the laughter stopped, and the bench felt empty in a way words can’t explain.
For weeks, I avoided that spot. It hurt too much. But eventually, I went back — not to fill the space she left, but to hold onto the moments we shared.
Years later, I still think about her when I pass that bench. It taught me something no class ever did: some losses don’t leave you — they live inside you, shaping who you become.
