The sun has risen but here I am, stilllying on my bed, gazing at the dewy morning of the first day of spring. Despite the buzzing sound of my alarm clock, my soul felt like it has left my body, wandering, with my mind, lost into the thoughts of her.

Ten years passed by without me knowing. Every day, I was hoping that one day, I will see her again. Knowing her was one of the best things that had ever happen to me. As I closed my eyes shut, memories came flooding back.

Ten years ago...

It was a sunny day. I was on my way to the park to play, when I heard soft cries behind the old acacia tree. As I stepped closer, I saw a girl about my age, burying her face on her arms, with her knees drawn close to her small framed body. Her sadness didn’t seem to suit the bright day of summer.

As I sat down beside her, she seemed to notice and began to look at me. When she lifted her face, I can see her tears pouring down her cheeks. I’ve never seen eyes as sad as those. I didn’t know what to do or how to react, for I’ve never been close to girls before.

“Uh—uljima (don’t cry),” I managed to say, looking at the clear, blue sky. “It’s a sunny day.” When I turned to look at her, she was just silent, still crying.

“Why are you crying?” I asked, out of my childish curiosity.

She didn’t respond, instead she just lowered her head. During that moment, I was even drawn more to know her reasons. “How can a girl as young as me, be this sad?” I thought.

“Did your pet die? Or did you lost your favourite toy?” I asked randomly, trying to make her open up. As I remember it, I think I might’ve have asked her tons of questions already, but all she did was to shrug and shake her head.

After my dreaded attempts to make her speak, I finally found the courage to ask her one probing question.

“Can you not speak...perhaps?”

I looked at her, hoping to get a response. I think my heart skipped a beat, when she stared at me, intently. Using a rock, she started to write something on the ground.

“Aniyo,” that was what she wrote.

“Then, why are you not answering my questions?” I began to focus on her engravings on the ground.

“I can’t. I’m punishing myself.”

When I read it, I was more confused and became more curious. I then started to ask her more.

“Why?”

She was crying when she was trying to write her answer.“Someone died because of me. It’s my fault...”

“It couldn’t possibly be your fault,” Even I was shocked at myself, after hearing myself say those words. “That person might be in heaven now.”

“Then, I have made her go to heaven earlier,” as I looked at her, she became more upset.

“I’m sorry,” I uttered, regretfully. I sighed, scratching the back of my head, not knowing how to comfort her.

Everything else turned silent, except for the chirping of the birds and the swaying of the trees. Out of nowhere, I started to hum a melody from H.O.T.’s Candy.

As I was looking at the two butterflies circling around a pink flower in the bushes, I began to sing the song I was humming earlier. At my right, I can sense her watching me, with her hands on her knees. I didn’t know what I was thinking back then, but I continued singing.

After singing, I watched her write something again on the ground.

“You have an amazing voice.”

“Komabne~” I uttered delighted and at the same time, shy. I never heard any other girl or woman praise me, except for my very own mother and aunts.

When I turned to look at her, she began wiping her tears. I don’t know why, but I felt relieved. Although she isn’t really smiling, I can feel that somehow I eased her sadness.

Minutes passed by like seconds. I didn’t realize that all I did was to sit beside her, watch the sky, listen to the tweeting of the birds, wait for her to write something, and lastly, to look at her, as she was staring into nothingness.

I realized then, “I want to see her smile.”

End of flashback.

As I was pulled back into my senses, I started preparing for the first day of my second year in high school. I wore my navy blue jacket over my white uniform and changed into my beige pants.

“I hope today will be different,” I muttered as I look at my reflection in the mirror.