Our hours together vanished somewhere. My mouth kept closed in search of the right words, but I couldn’t find anything save a tentative sigh. The cab pulled in over at her place, suggesting I’d run out of time. I tried to look at her, to see for any small sign of exhaustion that might indicate she was just as tired of all this hostility as I am, but she wouldn’t give me the chance. In a hurry, she kissed my right cheek dispassionately and left me in the vehicle without even a word of goodbye.
I searched the window for thoughts that would lead me far away from her, but the image of her always seemed to reassert itself back into my mind. It was the image of her asleep, with the morning sunlight glistening off her soft, delicate skin like it had meant to. She was there, right beside me, and I had only wanted to crawl to her side of the bed, to hold her, to kiss her forehead and tell her that she’s mine. But somehow I couldn’t. There was a space between us and it felt like the other side was far beyond reach. All around me, the air was gradually congealing and I asked myself if this was something I should worry about, now that my life had gone down to another fork in the road and there were new troubles that’ll need my attention. I kept quiet and peered out of the window as life incoherently went by on the road. I felt flustered because at this moment I couldn’t really decide.
I asked to be dropped off a few streets before my apartment just so I can freely walk and feel the air a bit more. The truth was that I would trace all tracks she’d leave on the ground. I would walk a million steps to be where she’d be. But like a ghost, she would only vanish, just like that, so hostile, wild, and fleeting. In a moment she’d be the tender breeze, lightly brushing her hand against mine, but with the sound of a thunder clap, she’d be the severe storm, washing me away with the strength of her show. And it astounds me, as much as the morning sun above astounds us all. And it alarms me, the way she never rests and stays put. I dropped my things on the floor and rested my head on the table.
I woke up shortly to the sound of my vibrating phone. It wasn’t her. A good friend of mine, whom I called up earlier asking if he had still wanted to have that coffee, was making sure of his plans with me that night. He told me the night before that he was heading to the area where I stayed for some work and that he’d finally be free to catch up right after. I packed my things and was starting to ready myself when I felt a certain, unexplainable feeling of loss, or at least, of fear of loss. It is a terrible moment of vulnerability when you finally become afraid of something you had not thought to lose, at least not yet. I shook my head fiercely. I could not think of such things nor could I afford to. The world wouldn’t wait for me, dreaming of warmth and security behind the door, and surely, my friend wouldn’t either. I took in slow but brisk breaths, got myself quickly dressed, and shortly, went on my way.
But still, I ask myself, will we already have to say goodnight, from our own separate sides?