It’s been three months.
The posters are still up — faded now, corners curled. Her smile is everywhere, and yet no one really saw her.
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The teachers talk like it was a tragedy. The students say things like “it’s so sad” and “she was always kind,” but they’re lying. She wasn’t kind. She was quiet. There's a difference.
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No one says her name out loud anymore. I do, sometimes. In my head.
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They searched the woods for days. Helicopters. Dogs. News vans. Nothing. No shoes, no phone, no note. Just fog. Same as that day. Thick and slow, like it was hiding something.
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They asked everyone questions.
Where was she last seen?
Did she say anything unusual?
Did anyone see her leave?
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I lied. Said I didn’t know.
Said I hadn’t talked to her in weeks.
Said I hadn’t seen her at all that day.
I don’t know why I did it.
Maybe I thought if I kept it quiet, it would go away. That she'd come back and laugh it off. That I hadn’t really watched someone walk off the edge of the world.
But she didn’t come back.
Some nights, I walk to that same spot. Behind the school, near the woods. The fog still rolls in, soft and slow. The same as before.
I stand there and wait, even though I know better.
And sometimes… sometimes I think I see her. Just a shape in the mist. A flicker of green. A glint of eyes I used to avoid.
But the fog stays quiet.
Just like me.
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ns216.73.216.240da2
and then Add to home screen.