It had been a long time since I outgrew those old thoughts, the ones where I believed I had it all figured out. Love? That was something I never cared for. Watching my friends dive headfirst into relationships, only to end up heartbroken, convinced me that love at a young age was a foolish endeavor. Why risk so much for something so fleeting?
"Hey Kofi, pay attention!" My teacher's sharp voice cut through my reverie, pulling me back to the present. I sighed, lifting my head to meet her stern gaze. "As you all know, ever since the accident during the school trip, things have changed. But we must adapt and get back to our normal routine," she continued. Her words echoed in the room, but my mind drifted to that fateful day.
We were on a school bus, excited about a week-long vacation. Everything was perfect—until it wasn't. The crash came out of nowhere, leaving us all injured. Some of us, myself included, lost pieces of our memories. At first, it didn't seem like a big deal. I could still answer everyone's questions, still recall the facts they wanted to know. But deep down, there was this gnawing feeling—a void that something important was missing, something I couldn't put my finger on.
As we returned to our studies, I felt a strange weight growing inside me. It was as if something tied me to the act of studying, a connection I couldn't explain. Yet, from what I remembered, I never enjoyed studying. Days passed, the feeling ebbed and flowed, and slowly, life began to feel normal again. The exams were approaching, and with them, the end of the school year. I was ready to move on, to leave this strange chapter behind.
Then, out of the blue, something unexpected happened—a new student transferred to our class.
"She'll be sitting next to Kofi," the teacher announced, snapping me out of my thoughts. My heart skipped a beat. Why next to me? I wondered what kind of person would transfer so late in the year, when everything was winding down. There was nothing I could do but wait for tomorrow to find out.
After school, I walked home with my friend Emma. She's been by my side for years, and though we were close, I never saw her as more than a friend. We talked about the usual things—school, life, the accident—but my mind kept drifting to the new student. Suddenly, a sharp, burning pain shot through my chest. I gasped, clutching my heart as my knees buckled.
"Kofi! Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?" Emma's voice was frantic as she knelt beside me.
"No need, I'm fine now," I managed to say, though my voice was shaky. The pain subsided as quickly as it came, leaving me breathless and confused. Emma insisted on walking me home, and I didn't argue.
That night, as the sun set and the moon rose, I found myself lying in bed, unable to stop thinking about the transfer student. Who was she? Why did the thought of her unsettle me so much? It was as if her presence stirred something deep within me, something that had been dormant since the accident.
"I feel like I'm missing a piece or two," I muttered to myself, staring at the ceiling. The feeling was so strong, yet so vague, like a half-remembered dream slipping away as soon as I tried to grasp it. Frustrated, I turned over, trying to push the thoughts aside. But even as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't shake the sense that tomorrow would bring more than just a new classmate. It felt like the beginning of something I wasn't ready to face, something that had been lurking in the shadows of my mind since that day on the bus.