Miro
It was a lovely morning, the kind of warmth you could only feel when wrapped in your mother's tight embrace.
I walked my usual route to school, my bag heavy with books and my shoelaces tied comfortably tight. When I arrived, I set my bag down on my desk. The air still carried the warmth of the morning, brought in by the gentle breeze flowing through the narrow slit of the window.
"Good morning, River," my desk mate said.
"Good morning," I replied.
I never really bothered to ask his name. We both sat in the back corner of the room, where the noise from the others seemed distant.
When the doors opened, a big man in his fifties entered. He wasn't much taller than us—just an ordinary-sized man with a large belly and a double chin. His gaze swept across the room before he spoke.
"We will now begin."
That afternoon, when the sun was almost sinking beneath the horizon, painting the sky in burning hues, I walked through the seemingly endless hallway.
Then, I heard a snicker.
I turned my head and saw a girl in another classroom, cleaning her desk. Papers were scattered across its surface, mixed with what looked like the remains of spilled juice.
She glanced at me.
Our eyes met.
I saw her eyes, and in that instant, I knew they weren't the eyes of a girl our age.
They weren't the eyes of someone asking for help.
They weren't the eyes of someone searching for a savior.
Instead, I saw something—or someone.
I don't know how to describe it.
In the brightly lit room, her gaze collided with mine. The momentum of my walk carried me forward, yet for that brief moment, everything seemed to slow.
I saw it.
I don't know if I should even call them eyes.
Those two dark spheres rested on her face, staring back at me.
You couldn't call those eyes.
There was no light in them.
It was as if light itself could never enter those abyssal depths.
For that brief moment, I saw it.
The bottomless abyss within her eyes.
When I looked back, she was no longer looking at me.
I continued on my way, but the moment lingered in my mind.
As I went downstairs, I saw students grouping up with one another on their way home. Some were laughing, some were talking about things I couldn't hear, and others were simply walking beside people they seemed to know well.
I wasn't bothered by it.
Or at least, I thought I wasn't.
But as I walked, a question kept circling around in my head.
Why don't I have any friends?
On my way home, I saw a dog by the side of the road. Its fur hung over its body like curtains. It wasn't clean, but it wasn't exactly dirty either.
The moment it saw me, it ran toward me.
I quickly dodged it.
I didn't want to dirty my newly washed uniform.
The dog stopped and looked at me.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a biscuit—the same kind I usually bought from the canteen. It was one of the few things cheap enough for my wallet and filling enough to keep my stomach from complaining.
I tossed it toward the dog.
It ate it almost immediately.
This had become a little tradition of mine.
Whenever I went home, I would see the dog and give it whatever food I could spare.
I named her Hazel.
The name seemed fitting for her color.
I crouched down and watched her eat. When she finished, she looked up at me.
I looked into her eyes.
There was a glimmer in them.
I could see so many things within those eyes.
Trust.
Love.
Happiness.
Things I could recognize without needing them to be explained to me.
Then I remembered the girl from the second floor.
The sight of her eyes was still fresh in my mind.
But unlike Hazel's, I couldn't find anything in hers.
No warmth.
No happiness.
No trust.
Just something deep.
Something I couldn't understand.
I tossed the last biscuit toward Hazel and stood up.
"See you tomorrow."
I hurried home.
There was a test tomorrow, and I didn't want to fail.
When I got home, I turned on all the lights and made myself dinner. After eating, I went to my room and started studying.
My eyelids grew heavier with every passing minute, as though someone had tied weights to them.
But I kept reading.
I kept memorizing.
I kept studying.
Until eventually, I fell asleep.
---
The next morning, I woke up to a silence that felt wrong.
I looked at my alarm clock.
My eyes widened.
I had slept an hour past my alarm.
There were only fifteen minutes left before school.
"Shit."
I jumped from my bed, grabbed my bag, and hurriedly put on my uniform.
I didn't even have time to iron it.
I ran.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, my bag bouncing against my back as I made my way toward school.
When I finally reached the school gates, I barely managed to slip through before the guard closed them.
I stopped to catch my breath.
I looked at the school building.
Then, for some reason, my eyes instinctively wandered toward the second floor.
Toward the classroom where she had been.
I don't know why I looked.
Maybe I was curious.
Maybe I was hoping to see her again
Or maybe—
I just wanted to know if those eyes were real.
As I walked up to the second floor, I moved quickly and quietly, trying to be considerate of the students who were already taking their tests.
My heart sank.
I realized I was late for the first test.
I hastened my stride and slowly entered our room. Luckily, the test papers were just being handed out.
The professor from before glanced in my direction for a few seconds.
I bowed my head and quietly sat in my designated chair.
Eventually, I finished the test.
I couldn't tell if I had done well or terribly.
After taking one more test, I was finally free to head to the cafeteria. But as I reached for my wallet, I realized I had forgotten it at home.
Great.
I had nothing to eat.
Instead of going to the cafeteria, I decided to go to the bathroom and wash my face.
When I reached it, however, I noticed that the door was closed.
A mop was wedged against the handle.
I stopped.
That was strange.
Being a little concerned, I removed the mop and slowly opened the door.
Two dark marbles welcomed me from within.
I almost jumped and instinctively tried to close the door again.
But then I realized who they belonged to.
It was the girl from before.
She was sitting inside the bathroom, staring directly at me.
Those eyes.
The same bottomless eyes I had seen yesterday.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
She simply stared at me.
Then she tilted her head.
"You're the boy from yesterday."
Her voice was calm.
Almost too calm.
"Uh..."
I didn't know what to say.
She looked at me for another second before asking,
"Are you going to close the door?"
I looked down at my hand, still gripping the door.
"Oh."
I opened it again.
"Sorry."
She looked away.
"It's fine."
I stood there awkwardly.
I didn't know why, but something about the way she spoke made me feel like I was the strange one for finding her sitting alone in a bathroom.
Then she looked back at me.
"You forgot your wallet, didn't you?"
I froze.
"How did you know that?"
She shrugged.
"You look hungry."
I looked at her.
Then at the mop.
Then back at her.
"I don't think that's how hunger looks."
"It does."
She said it so matter-of-factly that I didn't know whether she was joking.
For the first time, I wondered if maybe the strange thing about her wasn't her eyes.
Maybe it was the way she saw things.
---
Later, we found ourselves at the balcony near the library.
I didn't know how it happened. One moment, I was standing awkwardly in the bathroom doorway, and the next, I was walking beside a girl whose name I didn't even know.
There was something strange about being around her.
It felt almost as if I were looking through an old memory.
It felt like we already knew each other from long ago.
"You... your name is River, right?" she asked.
"Yes. How'd you know that?" I replied.
"Aren't you gonna ask mine?" she laughed.
"My name is Miro," she said, not giving me the chance to reply.
She rested her arms against the balcony railing and looked toward the sky.
Then, without warning, she asked,
"What do you think life is, huh, River? Is it a journey that we must inevitably venture through, or is it a drama that we are currently acting in?"
"I... I... I don't know," I replied, confused about where she had gotten such a sudden question.
She looked at me.
"How pitiful you are, Mr. River."
Before she could say another word, the bell rang.
I took my test, and after finishing it, I leaned back in my chair and stretched my stiff arms.
For some reason, my thoughts returned to her.
"Miro," I muttered beneath my breath.
"Who does she think she is? Me, pitiful?"
I scoffed.
"I'm not the one who gets locked in a stinking bathroom. I'm not the one whose desk is being vandalized. Does she even have a guardian?"
Driven by my pointless sense of dignity, I convinced myself that I was somehow above her.
But no matter how much I tried to dismiss her, her question remained in my head.
What do you think life is?
I didn't understand why it bothered me so much.
---
The following afternoon, I found her again at the balcony near the library.
She was leaning against the railing, watching the students below.
I almost walked past her.
Almost.
"River."
I stopped.
"You came back."
"I was just passing by."
She smiled.
"Of course."
I stood beside her.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Below us, students moved through the courtyard. Some were laughing with their friends. Others were rushing toward their next class.
Everything looked ordinary.
Perhaps that was why her next words felt so strange.
"Why did you ask me about life yesterday?" I finally said.
She looked at me.
"Because you looked like someone who had never thought about it."
"What's there to think about?"
"Everything."
I frowned.
"Life is just life."
Miro chuckled.
"That's what everyone says."
She turned toward the school grounds.
"Everyone wakes up. They eat. They study. They work. They make friends. They fall in love. They fight. They laugh."
She paused.
"And then they die."
I stared at her.
The word felt strangely heavy.
"That's a little dark."
"It's the truth."
She looked at me.
"Do you know what's strange about humans, River?"
"What?"
"We know we're going to die, but we spend most of our lives pretending we won't."
I didn't answer.
"We make plans for tomorrow. Next week. Next year. We talk about the future as if we're guaranteed to reach it."
She looked down at the students walking below us.
"But we're not."
A cold breeze passed between us.
"One day," she continued, "that classroom will be empty. The desks will be replaced. The teachers will grow old. The students will graduate and forget each other's names."
Her voice became quieter.
"Even this school will eventually disappear."
I looked at her.
"And us?"
Miro smiled.
"Especially us."
I didn't like the way she said it.
"So what's the point?"
She tilted her head.
"Of what?"
"Of living."
She looked at me for a long moment.
"That's the question, isn't it?"
She turned toward the horizon.
"Maybe life isn't valuable because it lasts forever."
I remained silent.
"Maybe it's valuable because it doesn't."
Those words stayed with me.
She continued.
"Think about Hazel."
My eyes widened.
"How do you know about her?"
"I've seen you with her."
I remembered the dog waiting for me on the road.
"One day, Hazel will die."
My chest tightened.
"You will too."
I looked away.
"Everyone you know will."
She wasn't smiling anymore.
"Your desk mate. Your teachers. Your parents. Me."
Her voice softened.
"And one day, River, you'll be the one who is gone."
I didn't know what to say.
For the first time, the idea of death didn't feel like some distant event that happened to strangers.
It felt close.
Too close.
Miro looked at me.
"Does that scare you?"
I thought about it.
"Yeah."
She smiled faintly.
"Good."
"Good?"
"Fear reminds you that you're alive."
The bell rang in the distance.
Neither of us moved.
"You know what I think?" she asked.
"What?"
"I think people waste too much time trying to escape the fact that they'll die."
She looked at the setting sun.
"They want to leave something behind. A name. A legacy. A memory."
She paused.
"But eventually, even memories fade."
"Then what's the point?"
Miro smiled.
"The point isn't to be remembered forever."
She looked directly into my eyes.
"The point is to be here while you're here."
I couldn't respond.
For once, I didn't have an argument.
She pushed herself away from the railing.
"Come on, River."
"Where?"
"Home."
I followed her.
We walked down the hallway together.
For the first time, I noticed how many people were around me.
Students laughing.
Friends talking.
Teachers rushing through the corridors.
Everyone living their own small lives.
Everyone moving forward without knowing exactly where they were going.
And yet, whether they knew it or not, we were all heading toward the same place.
The end.
Outside the school gates, Miro stopped.
"See you tomorrow."
I looked at her.
"Do you really believe we'll see each other tomorrow?"
She smiled.
"No."
I froze.
She turned toward me.
"Tomorrow isn't promised."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she continued walking.
I watched her disappear into the crowd.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I kept thinking about what she had said.
We all come to an end.
For the first time, death didn't feel like some distant event that belonged to old people, strangers, or people I would never meet.
It felt like something that had always been walking beside me.
Something I simply refused to look at.
The next morning, I took the usual road to school.
Hazel was waiting for me.
The moment she saw me, she ran toward me, wagging her tail.
I crouched beside her.
I looked into her eyes.
There was still that same glimmer.
Trust.
Love.
Happiness.
For a moment, I wondered how long it would remain there.
Then I pulled a biscuit from my bag.
"Here."
Hazel happily ate it.
I smiled.
"See you tomorrow."
I stood up and continued walking.
Then I stopped.
I looked back at Hazel.
For the first time, I understood what Miro had been trying to tell me.
Tomorrow wasn't promised.
Neither was next week.
Neither was next year.
One day, I would take my last breath.
So would Miro.
So would Hazel.
So would everyone I knew.
And perhaps that was what made every ordinary moment precious.
The warmth of the morning.
The sound of laughter in the hallway.
A biscuit shared with a stray dog.
A conversation on a balcony.
A person standing beside you for a little while before eventually walking away.
Life wasn't valuable because it lasted forever.
It was valuable because it didn't.
I looked toward the sky.
For once, I wasn't afraid of the end.
I was afraid of wasting the time I had before reaching it.
Because the end was inevitable.
The abyss was waiting for all of us.
But until then—
I was still here.
And for the first time, I wanted to live.
