Short Story?

I am considering turning an old school paper into a short story but I am not sure how to go about doing it. I normally like to write new short stories but this one, I feel, is too good to let go and not continue. This story is meaningful to me and uses sensory language to appeal to my readers personal memories. Below I included a short preview of it and will later decide if I wish to revise/continue it.




There are times much like these in which I find myself sitting in the living room alone, absent of sound, that I summon up enough courage to reminisce on an old friend. He was my best friend for six short but wonderful years; his presence in my life but was taken out far too quickly. I met him in the backyard of a mutual friend’s on June 12th 2005. I was only twelve-years-old. His name was Cody, and he was unlike anyone I have ever met. The first thing I notice about Cody that separated him from the rest was his strong British accent. He was young too, about fifteen. His innocent blue eyes showed no hidden lies or callous, he wasn’t yet jaded and he had this liveliness about him that I craved. The summer air was warm that night as we made awkward small talk with each other by the pool. The grass was prickly and itchy as I crushed it between my bare feet.