Every time I open his old pictures, his eyes speak to me. They tell me he is sorry. They seem to hold back tears and just ask me to smile. I smile. I smile because I don’t know what got into him. Why he did what he did. Maybe there were reasons that he never wanted to speak of. Whatever the reasons, I smile because he is happy now.
He might be a different person now. I don’t know this new person – he is a stranger to me. I smile for the person who once smiled for me.
I still feel him around. As if he never left. My eyes search for him in the crowd. When
I think I’d just sniffed his body odour, I turn around with excitement to see if he is following me.
But I don’t find him. Because he’s gone. He left... to make his own life.
Standing High
4 years ago