Disappointment

He walked, leather school shoes dragging along the rough tarmac on his way home. It'd been a rough week: exams, assignments, arguments, issues...it seemed to make his head throb. But it wasn't these things that made him walk like he did. Recent events had wearied him. Pain. Sorrow. The smile he normally wore was wiped off of his face, the glimmering eyes were replaced with eyes that seemed to rain inside. Countless times he had resorted to self-harm, several more he had spent thinking about his death. But now, as he drew nearer to the local basketball court, something just out the corner of his eye flickered. Curious, he walked over, stumbling on the uneven pavement. He gasped as he bent down to pick it up. Pictures. Pictures of the couple, perhaps, four or five months ago. What the hell is this doing here? He thought. It'd been at least two months ago since he threw it out but now it was here, in his hands. He mustn't have know why or how, but he began crying. Not a wailing cry out loud but more of a silent, tear-less cry.

4:30 in the afternoon