Emily

The weather outside was terrible. When you ran to the train, you didn't see her right away, but a moment later you were already standing in an embrace.
“Oh, come on, I’ll be back soon,” she said and kissed you on the cheek.
You put your jacket on her.
"Promise me you'll return this jacket," you said with tears in your eyes. You didn't need the jacket at all; you needed to hear a promise of return.
-Okay, I promise.

You dated for 3 years, but unfortunately she had to go to London to see her father.
When you got home, after rereading her message, "I love you, Butterscotch," you fell asleep. Butterscotch... That's the nickname she gave you. You called her "swallow" because she's not like the others.
You opened the news.
"Today, at approximately 4:40 a.m., train number derailed due to track problems. According to media reports, there were no survivors."

"There are no survivors," the line you read echoed in your head. The screen had long since gone dark, and you were sitting on the bed, staring into space.

The weather outside was terrible, just like that day. You stood in front of Emily's grave, looking at her photograph.
“But you promised to give me the jacket,” you said quietly when all the mourners had left.
Crouching down, you carefully placed the bouquet of irises. "Farewell, my swallow." Tears slowly flowed down your cheeks and fell onto the grave.