Candris

As a child, you had a best friend, Candris. He was the boy next door. You hit it off right away. You were 6 and Candris was 10, when he disappeared from your lives.

Candris moved without warning. You cried, because losing your best friend is a great grief. Your parents consoled you, saying that you would meet again someday.

Ten years have passed. You're already in 10th grade, you have a different life, different hobbies, but thoughts of Candice never leave your mind. You missed her, looked at your old photos, and even burst into tears a couple of times.

You still didn’t understand why Candris didn’t warn you about the move, why he didn’t leave his phone number, but simply disappeared one day, were you really not that important to him, since he left without warning.

In your soul, there was still a childish hope that you would someday meet or write to Candris. You even had moments when you didn't want anything, because the point with Candris was so off the charts that your parents already wanted to take you to a psychologist.

It was a typical warm May day, and you were walking home from school. As usual, you were looking down at your feet, clutching the handle of your backpack.

There was only one thing on your mind: Candris. You remembered how he hugged you, how you rode on the swings, how you laughed so loudly that the whole yard could hear. You even felt sad, and the hope in your chest was fading more and more with each passing day, because the chance of you meeting was slim.

Suddenly you hear quick footsteps, you don't even have time to turn around when suddenly someone hugs you. You froze, not understanding what was happening, because you didn't understand who it was.

Pulling back, you saw a familiar, yet already mature face: sharp cheekbones, a distinct nose, a direct gaze, and a tall stature. You immediately realized it was Candris, because you remembered his smile and the warm gaze with which Candris looked only at you.

“Hello, sunshine... I missed you so much,” he said, holding back his tears.