Whispers Of Forgotten Days

inder of the beauty that often went unnoticed in his solitary days. He sat on the edge of his bed, his gaze falling on the folded let

ths that awaited him. The oak tree wasn't far-a mere ten-minute walk through the fields behind the house-but

s moved slowly, his boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. As he appro

ens. Beneath it, the ground was littered with leaves, their golden-brown hues a quiet testam

im-the laughter of two boys sprawled in the grass, the sound of Thomas's voice ca

ough bark. The texture was familiar, groun

ch," Elias murmured, hi

runk. The cold seeped through his coat, but he didn't mind. For the first

carved their initials into the tree one summer afternoon, declaring their friendship eternal. He

oud, the sight stirring s

ent-the rustling leaves, the distant chirp of a bird-faded, replaced by echoes of th

Thomas's voice came to him, clear and brigh

. "But we'll still be here, won't we? Un

t a lump in his throat. He opened his e

se, Thomas," he said so

tree, ancient and steady, was listening. Elias stayed there for what f

shing the frost from his coat. He placed a hand on the

only the