Two-hundred years might seem like a lot, but truly, it isn't.

Well, sometimes it feels longer, other times it feels shorter.

I knew this kid. His name was Daniel.

Everyday afterschool, he'd sit under the tree and read.

Unlike the other boys playing ball.

They'd often tease him. Saying how he was 'weird', and a 'nerd' for reading.

But, by the looks of it, Daniel didn't seem to care.

Like I said, he came every single day. Sitting on my roots.

Until one day, he didn't.

Didn't show up.

Didn't read.

Nothing.

Just . . . gone.

And for the first time . . . I'd felt what death was.

Daniel was buried right next to me.

THE END.