The sun hangs low, a weary sentinel, casting shadows that stretch long and thin, mocking the weight of grief that hangs heavy in the air like a shroud, a veil pulled tight around a small town that will never be the same. Inside the school, walls once echoing with laughter now stand silent, the air thick with an absence that screams louder than any cry. A mother sits on a bench, outside school grounds, her body a trembling vessel, hands clasped in a desperate prayer, knuckles ghostly pale, as if holding onto the very essence of hope, or perhaps the last remnants of her child. Her eyes, once pools of vibrant joy, now two deep wells, overflowing with tears that spill like a torrential downpour; each drop a fragment of a heart, shattered, each one a whisper of a memory lost, each one a piece of laughter, a gentle hand slipping into hers, the innocent call of “Mom! Look what I did!” echoing in the hollow chambe…