Love Before Graduation

Nami and I turned towards the classroom. We were dragging our feet as if we had to pay off a debt. The corridor was filled with the same stale chirping—laughter that was so empty that it didn't echo even after bouncing off the walls.

I was silent. No, let's say I was buried somewhere within myself. Arin's quiet words and his indifferent back were following me.

Nami's face also had the same staleness, but expecting something from her was like throwing a bucket into a dry well.

There was a commotion inside the classroom—like worms boiling in a basket. Books were in hand, but the mind was somewhere else.

Then my eyes fell on Suhina. She was talking more than necessary, laughing more than necessary. When a person is hiding something, he laughs in the same way as a clown laughs in a show.

Nami nudged me lightly. "Something is cooking," she said. As if I had heard the sound of a pot breaking in an old neighbourhood.

Suhina looked at me with a smile—a smile that had less sweetness and more poison. Still I remained silent.

But silences don't last long.

"Aira!"