Lessons of Tragedy

I had become used to the bouquets of flowers Hasan honoured me with every time he attended my classes.

Hasan, that well-mannered, cheerful boy. God compensated him for his lack of height by granting him a lovely open-minded spirit. His friends adored him; he had endearing nicknames and kind words for them all.

I wish I had known that the white flowers Hasan gave me on that sad Saturday morning were the last I would receive from him. Had I known, I would probably have chatted with him and the group of friends that always surrounded him for much longer.

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