Malachi Barton¹⁹

A crowd had gathered on the lawn of the school where Malachi had studied: students, alumni, family, friends. A veritable minefield of memories and encounters. At every step, someone bumped into you; with every movement, a surprise hug. It was Graduation Day, that symbolic threshold between what was and what will be. The last time Malachi would set foot in that school. From then on, the world opened up: university, new stages, scripts yet to be written, perhaps even melodies yet to be discovered. Who knows? He is a bright soul, with his heart set on the stars.

You were there to celebrate with your friend Malachi, blending into that sea of ​​twelve hundred voices cheering for his children, grandchildren, nephews, and nieces. You had come with Malachi's family—Loren and Felicia—since your parents were buried at work. But that was no problem. The Bartons welcomed you as one of their own. And that, of course, included Norah, their ten-year-old niece, whom you adored with an almost sisterly affection. The two of you were like two halves of the same laugh.

Norah rocked in his arms, laughing and playing as they waited for her cousin. He was still saying goodbye to his friends, taking pictures, telling jokes, capturing moments. And everyone was waiting for him, eager to celebrate with dinner at an elegant and exclusive restaurant nearby.

Photos here, photos there: flashes like stars twinkling in the twilight of youth. After all, it was a moment to treasure like an exceptional perfume. And then he appeared—Malachi—with that unmistakable smile, the tip of his tongue between his teeth, as he always did when he wanted to be irresistibly funny. He approached, his eyes shining with pride.

—Guess who just graduated from Opins Knight? Yep, this kid right here!