Her Empty Graduation Seat

My cousin finished school early and spent that spring drifting, waiting for graduation like it was something that might never quite arrive. She was working at a lakeside restaurant in Scotland, mixing with people I didn't trust but she found exciting. She told me everything ' the drinking, the weed, the risks ' because we were that close. One night she messaged to say she'd tried something stronger. Said it scared her but also thrilled her. Promised she wouldn't touch it again. I believed her because I needed to. Exactly one month later, she was gone. At graduation her seat held a framed photo instead of her body. Her father walked up alone to collect the diploma she never got to touch. I still open my phone sometimes, half expecting another reckless message. Silence was not the ending I imagined for her.