The high school resides in silence. Two floors beneath, the chaos of the middle schoolers' feels like a distant memory; an old favourite song whose thrums I could recognise but not the words. As I walk through its hallways, I feel that it's not a school but a mausoleum. But of what?

of the memories you made.

Says a voice in my head. It has been through a lot, has it not? Standing stoic against the blue sky for a century and a half, it is a mausoleum of memories. A silent testimony to the tears and the laughter of its erstwhile students. Some of them no longer live. Forgotten by us all.

but not by it. the high school remembers it all.

Tears roll down my cheeks. A feeling of nostalgia clenches my heart in its fist. This is the place that taught me the values of life, the place that acquainted me with death. One day I will leave this place: this sanctuary that has protected me from the crude world outside. One day I will be gone too, just like its very first students.

But there is comfort. It does not matter who remembers. This school will stand for a few more centuries and in its heart, it will keep me, and my stories. In its silence, it will remember me.

In its memories I will live, forever fifteen.

~•~