Combed raven hair, tiny wet eyes and a drooped down face lacking poise, he was sitting beside the river, his knees bent to reach his chest and his elbows resting on them. The river was travelling by, cheerful as everyday, motivated as everyday but the boy's tiny wet eyes had sunk deep to cherish anything. He was still a kid and was longing to see his friend. He wanted to meet him and celebrate the day which he didn't know was friendship day. He didn't require any 'proper noun days'. But his friend was not there. The river carried away his intermittent tears along its way when finally, in despair he stood to leave without even acknowledging the river of its unassuming support. His reflection quivered over the water as he stood up and he cornered a glance towards his shuddering self. Something happened. The boy took to his sitting posture again. He saw the face over the water shedding tears along with.him. His tiny eyes noticed the despair laden face over the water and he started knowing the truth, the fact that true friends are a reflection of us, they are never far or close. It was his friend over the water flowing away his tears and dividing his despair with himself. He realised he has met his friend and the despair vapored away to let the boy celebrate.
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