“A Farewell of Sorts” by Nicholas 11H

Dearest friend,

Do you remember the old cherry tree? Where we’d always venture to play hide and seek, scheme our plans for futures which only existed in our imaginations, or the millions of other shenanigans we’d concoct together. For 8 years, the school bus would grind itself to a halt at the stop serving the storefronts lining the next street, and we’d skip out the door. Do you remember how we’d always enthusiastically race down the 5-foot way? Weaving our way through the stream of narrow archways, queuing folk and the occasional cyclist, their angered clinking was mere amusement for us. We’d always imagine ourselves as Olympiads, turning the corner and sprinting the final stretch, using our fiery reserves to fuel our strides Shoving and giggling as we attempted to outpace each other When we’d arrive at the park just before our neighbourhood street, we’d throw our bags and collapse under the mesmerising shimmering of light through swaying leaves Oh, how we’d always roll around breathless, ribs tight as if they were squeezing us and legs burning like they’d been on scorching embers Yet, all we did was laugh until our heart’s content our competition with words persisted long after our sprint had been won For 8 years, that was our 2pm routine

Then, Year 6 came knocking on our doors our final year in Primary. Since the day we donned our uniform, we had known only a school where we were together. The very thought of this reality being shattered made us shudder, sometimes to the brink of tears So, we did what we thought was best: we scrambled to build a veil of hyperactivity Every meet we had became an increasing conflict to exhaust more energy in the name of ‘fun’ Every laugh we had, every race down alleys, every ball tossed and every conversation sparked became our ecstacy When parents forbade us from meeting, whether it be because we hadn’t finished our homework, already had preexisting plans, or simply because it was late, we’d curse them Spite them Wish we could fill their larger shoes, be able to cast our decisions as we pleased, to be reckless and free from the chains of youngling conformity Ah, how naive we were back then!

Come orientation day, and the seat beside me was occupied by a lad I had never met in my life. My bus ride to-and-fro school was silent When I arrived at the stop, there was no running, or weaving through alleys, or causing commotion amongst shoppers and cyclists alike Passing the cherry tree, I did not throw myself underneath it panting - instead, I simply gazed at it as I strolled Of course, we had phones, we’d often catch each other on the street, and our weekends still allowed ample chances to meet Even for the first two years, the unfamiliar made us into pillars the other could lean on But, our pillars began to crumble Unfamiliarity can only be temporary, after all I suppose this was the spark that set our rope burning

As more years passed, our sporadic meets became more and more sporadic. Whatever free time we had once used to meet became preoccupied with the life we built in our respective schools. Our weekends were increasingly together with our friend groups from school, rather than between the two of us. Sprinting down the neighbourhood street became infrequent with you, and more for us to catch public buses into town, where we’d spend time with mates the other barely recognised. The nights when we used to cross the road to each other's houses were slowly invaded by time spent in our rooms, buried between stacks of books and hunched in front of our screens. There were times I’d look out the window, and would also see your room lights illuminate among darkened silhouettes. I knew we were both studying, yet I had urges to open up our chat and invite you over for a snack, or to take a break. It never came to fruition I’d always stare at my blank screen, then slump back, sigh and place my phone back. Perhaps, this was why our messages dried up from daily conversations, to weekly gossip, and then trickled down into monthly jokes or occasional findings When I accidentally stumbled upon our chat again, my heart