The swing set sways lazily beneath me as I stare at the softened concrete. My insides shiver under the beating sun as tears drip silently onto my jeans leaving a visible patch. I grip the metal supports with all my might – I have to or I’d get up right now and punch the frame until I bled.

I’m never usually this emotional. This place – this park with its rusted swing set and broken slide – it was our place. We would sit on the swings, too far to touch, and gossip idly about broken relationships or – should something like Dunblane happen again – reel in shock over the madness that can overcome a person.

Liam loved politics, and I tried to indulge but could never quite grasp his fascination with government setup and suchlike. I tried – for the life of me, I tried – but for the most part he talked and I listened, stupefied.

I will miss those days, I think. Miss our one-sided conversations.

Today my best friend died, and I don’t suppose he will return. I just hope he waits for me, and that I never forget.