As we grew older, the cracks in our friendship began to show. It started with little things, like Jake skipping out on our weekly game nights or Tom and I arguing over trivial matters. But as time went on, the distance between us grew, until it felt like we were strangers living in the same house.
One evening, I found Jake sitting alone in his room, the curtains drawn tight against the fading light. He was staring blankly at the wall, his expression unreadable.
"You okay, man?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Jake shrugged, not meeting my gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine."
I knew he was lying, but I didn't press him. Instead, I left him alone, feeling helpless and frustrated.
YOU ARE READING
The Weight of Loss
Conto"The Weight of Loss": A Short Story In the quiet suburb where I grew up, three inseparable friends once roamed the streets, their laughter echoing through the neighborhood like a symphony of joy. Jake, Tom, and I, we were more than friends - we were...
