In the days that followed our conversation in the woods, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had failed Jake as a friend. I should have noticed sooner, should have reached out to him before things got so bad. But instead, I had ignored the warning signs, hoping that whatever was bothering him would just go away on its own.
One afternoon, I found myself sitting alone in my room, staring at my phone. I had been avoiding calling Jake, afraid of what I might hear on the other end of the line. But I knew I couldn't put it off any longer.
With trembling fingers, I dialed his number and held the phone to my ear, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Hello?" Jake's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in days.
"Hey, it's me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing."
There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Jake spoke again. "I'm... not great, to be honest."
And as he poured his heart out to me, I realized with a sinking feeling that I had let my friend down when he needed me the most.
YOU ARE READING
The Weight of Loss
Short Story"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...
