Gravestones and Epitaphs

The hallway was silent.

Eerily silent.

Eerily empty.

And yet there he stood, looking at the chipped lockers, the scuffed floor, the worn doors.

He wasn’t sure how to feel because four years in this place tend to do that to a person.

Four years of mockery, lunches, relationships, crushes, writing, homework, people.

Four years of it all.

And part of him saw happiness.

And part of him saw the gravestones of past relationships, of ugly comments, and pastimes that were now long gone.

He felt as if he were looking at an epitaph of who he once was.

And he wasn’t quite sure if he was willing to let go of him.