The wet sand smelled so fresh, pure water drops on the silky petals of daisies he had in his hands. Waiting for her to turn up, he sat on a bench accompanying the wet leaves.
It was the place they used to meet. The place that sheltered their laughter, tears, their memories. The place that had their past he would cherish, memories he would live with.
The place itself had her presence around, he would go there for. Everything there reminded him of her, the girl he had been. The way they walked on the lonely roads holding hands, the way they sat on the same bench, when he lied in her lap while reading out loud their favourite books.
It wasn’t easy for him to let go off the person he loved, all the memories, those precious moments. It’s not easy to let go when the silence talk more than her laughter.