It's May. Two weeks before graduation and two weeks since November left.
I've been at this bridge every night waiting for him to come back, but he still hasn't.
I take out my last cigarette from my last pack.
It's time.
I lean over the railing cigarette in hand.
"Goodbye." I whisper before letting go.
YOU ARE READING
Summer and Winter
Short StoryA story of how the snow fell in love with sun. Cover by @kaykay113226
