Empty seat
775 Words
The morning sunlight spilled gently across the classroom floor, casting long shadows beneath the desks. Students trickled into the room one by one, filling the air with laughter, chatter, and the occasional groan about unfinished homework. It sounded like every other school day.
To Luna, however, something felt different.
She walked to her seat by the window and carefully placed her bag on the floor. As she looked around the room, her eyes instinctively searched for the familiar figure who always seemed to arrive with a relaxed smile and headphones hanging around his neck.
But Noah wasn't there.
She glanced at the clock.
There were still five minutes before class started.
Maybe he's running late, she thought.
She opened her notebook, trying to distract herself, but every few seconds her eyes drifted back toward the classroom door.
The first bell rang.
Students hurried to their seats.
Still no Noah.
A minute later, their teacher entered the classroom carrying a pile of books.
"Good morning, everyone."
The class greeted her before settling into silence.
As the lesson began, Luna found herself staring at the empty desk a few rows away.
It was strange.
She barely knew Noah.
They had only spoken for a few days, shared a few quiet conversations, and exchanged a couple of handwritten notes.
Yet the room somehow felt... emptier without him.
She shook her head, forcing herself to pay attention to the lesson.
Stop thinking about him, she silently scolded herself.
He's probably just sick.
When lunch break arrived, Luna picked up her lunchbox and walked toward the rooftop without thinking.
It had quietly become part of her routine.
The moment she pushed open the rooftop door, a cool breeze greeted her.
She walked to the familiar bench overlooking the city and sat down.
The view hadn't changed.
The buildings still stretched toward the horizon.
Cars still crawled along the busy streets below.
The sky was a brilliant shade of blue with only a few white clouds drifting lazily overhead.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Except...
No one was standing by the fence.
No one greeted her with a quiet "Morning."
No one handed her chocolate milk using another obviously made-up excuse.
Luna smiled to herself at the memory.
"...You really are bad at lying," she whispered.
The wind carried her voice away.
She waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
The rooftop door never opened.
Eventually, the lunch bell rang again.
With a small sigh, she stood and returned to class.
The following morning, Noah's seat was still empty.
Luna tried not to look.
She really did.
But every time she lifted her head from her notebook, her eyes wandered back to the vacant chair.
During art class, Mia slid into the seat beside her.
"You've been looking over there all morning."
Luna blinked.
"What?"
"Noah's desk."
"I wasn't."
Mia smiled knowingly.
"You don't have to hide it."
Luna looked down at her sketchbook.
"I'm just wondering why he's absent."
"I heard one of the teachers say he wasn't feeling well."
Luna's fingers tightened slightly around her pencil.
"Is it serious?"
"I'm not sure."
That answer stayed with her for the rest of the day.
Not sure.
Those two words echoed inside her mind long after classes had ended.
As she packed her things that afternoon, something white caught her eye beneath her desk.
A folded piece of paper.
Her heart skipped.
She bent down and picked it up carefully.
The moment she saw the neat handwriting, she knew exactly who had written it.
She unfolded the note with trembling fingers.
"Sorry I couldn't be there today.
I hope you still looked at the sky.
Sometimes people disappear for a little while, but that doesn't mean they've forgotten you."
Luna read the words once.
Then again.
And again.
A warmth spread quietly through the heaviness inside her chest.
She folded the note with care and slipped it inside her notebook, placing it beside the first message he had ever given her.
As she walked home, the evening sky glowed with soft shades of orange and pink.
She stopped for a moment and looked up.
A gentle breeze brushed against her face.
For years, Luna had believed she was invisible.
That if she disappeared, no one would notice.
But now...
Someone had remembered her.
Someone had taken the time to leave a few simple words, just to make sure she didn't feel alone.
She smiled—a small, genuine smile.
Then, almost without realizing it, she whispered into the evening air,
"I hope you're okay, Noah."
The wind carried her words beyond the rooftops, toward a place she hoped he would soon return from.
- Writer
