The Girl

In front of me was a cup filled with a hot soup. It seemed to torture my lips and my tongue every time I made a sip from it. On my right side was my book by Clare Clark and on my left was my as-if-telling-me-pay-me-heed cell phone. Outside the skies were crying, outstretching their pleas, uttering the thoughts they have as their grains drop on the leaves barely defying it due to less surface tension, and I, unfathomably dead serious, am falling. But just don't know to either which hand I shall be caught.

"Mid - September year twenty ten, you held me by your arms tight yet gentle, whispered me singsong strings of words beneath your breath, murmured something I hardly understood, remembered the auld lang syne sweet and mellifluous. I can feel the sentiments as the warm belch of breath from your mouth dumped against my neck and some area of my shoulder...

There was a moment pause in my preoccupied head. Around me was the nagging of life's facts, the overwhelming conscience, the need to create a master piece of my own, pressure of the wind pressing off my body temporarily making me busted and numbed. This place is dire enough to roam around. This place is full of insecurities, resentment and anguish. A moment still. There, on the corner, I saw a figure blurry but of a resemblance of an idiocy. My eyes curiosity brought my system to entire rapture of the thing I had seen. I couldn't figure out what's making it fuzzy, was it the thing itself or were those stubborn eyes. I peeped closely...

..suddenly, you were half - way out the door, your vivid attention intently searching something in me. Aye! You wanted me to say my last words for you. I had forgotten that you were just holding me that night to equipped myself with higher concentration on how to live life ALONE without thee, without you loving me anymore. I couldn't defy the urging eruption of abrupt intervention on such impeccable quiet night."

My body was already near the figure on the corner. She was sobbing. She kept on tapping her chest as if telling, "It has to be OK". On the left side was a beeping phone, the other side caught my interest... It was a book laid open and undone. As I stared closely, I literally drooped and got knocked off by a strong impression of reality. The girl went on from the I-pity-myself-but-I-have-to-cry situation which was intolerably devastating and alarmingly not kidding. I knew from that time that the crying lass was me, a fresh reflection of me for the passed almost two years that he came up, and gave me his willful GOODBYE.