Small Voice

It was another Monday morning.

As he stood under the usual spot, the mango tree which was probably the last witness of 'them' that he failed to bring back, the playful rays of the sun kissed the smooth skin of his gloomy face. Due to this, he had to end his daydreaming, open his eyes, then move one of his hands to shield them from the glaring light.

He was currently on the campus, to be exact, the first year junior high block.

Few people were around as it was still very early. At least, there were still about forty minutes before the flag ceremony and first classes. Since today's Monday, many students would be late, a consequence of enjoying their weekends too much.

This worked to his advantage though as being seen by many people never registered on his plan.

He approached the tree and crouched down. After that, he stared closely to one of the odd surfaces of the lower trunk and ran his right forefinger on it.

There were words on it. To be precise, there were letters inscribed usin