FicWad

There used to be a boy in our class and every day we’d see him take out this strip of fabric. It was red and black plaid and torn, frayed almost beyond repair from how much it had been held and loved. Almost ceremoniously he would held it to his lips like he was kissing it. None of us ever asked him about it until a new girl came to our school and after a week finally asked
“Why do you have that old piece of fabric?”
He smiled sadly “It is my sisters. I’m waiting to return it to her.”
We were all shocked; he didn’t have a sister, or never said about her. After much searching we finally found a news story from a few years back. A teenage girl had committed suicide by throwing herself off a bridge.

There was a photo of the body; a pretty pale girl in a red and black plaid shirt.