It began with the best of intentions: a simple label, a few scribbles, and a promise to never forget. But as the days went by, the markers began to fade, the labels grew worn, and the envelopes started to look like they had been through a war.
The once-vibrant colors of the labels now resembled a faint memory, a whispered secret, shared among the survivors of the disaster. The markers that once held such promise, now lie in pieces, their fragments scattered across the floor like theประก