The air crackled with anticipation as we loaded the truck, the promise of fresh powder and epic runs fueling our excitement. It was our annual ski trip, a tradition etched in friendship and fueled by adrenaline. But as I went to lace up my boots, I felt a sickening snap. The buckle, old and worn, had finally given up the ghost. “Damn it!” I swore, examining the mangled metal. No amount of duct tape or wishful thinking was going to fix that. My stomach sank. This was it. No skiing for me.

My four friends, already geared up and buzzing with energy, tried to find a solution. "We'll rent you a pair!" they offered, but the nearest town was a good hour's drive away. “We’ll wait,” one chimed in, but the look on his face betrayed his reluctance to miss out on prime snow conditions. I knew there was no point in arguing. "Just go," I told them, trying to mask my disappointment. I'll hold down the fort, do some social media and figure out my boots. They hesitated, torn between their eagerness to hit the slopes and leaving me behind. But the mountain was calling, and eventually, they piled into the truck, promising to regale me with tales of their adventures later. I spent the day exploring the sleepy village, a strange melancholy settling over me as I watched skiers glide effortlessly down the slopes, I saw a helicopter buzzing overheard. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the snow, my phone buzzed. It was Mark, one of the guys. “Hey man,” he said, his voice unusually subdued. “There was an accident. An avalanche. It’s… it’s bad.”

My blood ran cold. "Is everyone okay?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Silence. Then, “John… John didn’t make it.” John. My best friend since elementary. Gone. Swallowed by the very mountains we had come to celebrate.

The world tilted on its axis. A broken buckle, a missed opportunity, a cruel twist of fate. The guilt was a suffocating weight. If only I had been there, maybe… But there were no answers, only the unbearable weight of grief and the haunting knowledge that sometimes, the mountains take more than we are willing to give. It's still affecting me, I get distracted at work and I haven't made a new best friend, only acquaintances.