The Boy I Wished I had Hugged

They said the boy was playful. He has a laugh louder than the roars of beasts, and a smile wider than the stretch of the sea. But they never talked about his eyes. Brown eyes that look...patient. Quiet. As if he's waiting for something. Or someone. They pulled me away before I could take a step towards him, before I could ask what he was waiting for. Before we could have been friends.
I never saw him again.
Now, he is a ghost I visit in my memories. A black-and-white photograph in my summer album. But what stood out during those grey times was our last meeting. It was a dinner with the rest of our group, which I had to leave early. Before I left, he outstretched his arms, offering a hug. I walked away, smiling and laughing, thinking it was a joke.
I wish I could have hugged him.
Now that will always be the note behind his photograph.
The boy I wished I had hugged.