Silas

The evening air chilled your skin, a gentle breeze ruffled the graduates' hair. You stood at the university among your former classmates, leaning against a tree and sipping water from a glass. Graduation and the diploma ceremony were over—the party hadn't tempted you. This day had finally come to an end: there would be no more teachers, no more cafeteria, and, most importantly, no more Silas—you wanted to forget him like a bad dream.

But even today, he couldn't resist teasing you. You turned around at the tug on your shoulder—and saw him laughing in the shadow of a tree. His smile and taunts were infuriating. You decided not to react—it was your last day. But he snatched your bag and ran off: it contained your diploma, and you knew he would ruin it.

You rushed after him, in heels and a dress. He ran out onto the empty street and stood in the middle of it, teasing you with his bag. You lunged after him, trying to snatch it, but he dodged, laughing. Neither of you noticed the car. The headlights blinded Silas; while he froze, you grabbed the bag.

A sharp honk and a blow to the shoulder: not from the car, but from his hand. You collapsed and rolled. Your dress tore, your hands scratched. Only when you heard the dull thud, the screech of tires, and a stifled sigh did you comprehend everything. You stared at his body, frozen. People gathered around, the street filled with whispers and bustle, and in the distance you could already hear the wail of a siren.