Echoes at the Table

This old table. It once hummed with life, a symphony of stories and laughter.

His laughter. Every scratch, every stain, a chapter. A song that

only he could truly play. I remember his hands on these strings,

creating magic. Music that filled every corner. Now, only silence fills

this space. A silence that screams his absence, a heavy, aching void.

Yet, the echoes of his laughter still resonate, vibrant and clear

in my mind. So much joy. This chair, always waiting. A constant reminder

of the stories left untold, the songs unsung. His eyes, full of life,