I'll be back soon. 

And so, the sun long gone. Stars were walking the sky and the half moon wasn't exactly ready for the mid of April clear coast. Rain won't be coming down anytime soon. I would know. I hated the smell.

 I'll be back soon. 

 The tea sagged and became acidic. Sugarless and without sweetness. Consciousness of the reflection looking back, my visions were of people occasionally passing by outside the glass despite being more than 40 feet far from it. Trust of what to feel. And trust of what to come. The anxiousness is the constant breath on my neck, fear for not feeling any wreck of nerves while waiting. I wasn't internally cursing. I wasn't externally wagging my foot out of habit. Still as a statue was I anticipating a familiar vision of someone entering the door. Would I like being left to my own convenience while waiting for someone to give me the answer I want but when inquired, I wouldn't know any better? I don't. I do not like facing indecisiveness while I am no better at making decisions. Fear for disagreement. Fear for complications. But my penchant for over-dramatizing and over-complicating things made me do that things I did.

Was I ever going to stop waiting? I do not know. Will I ever make somebody wait for me? A few numbers may make it to the list. I am not perfect. But this is imperative. Tasting sugar on your fingers and hoping the sweetness would get to your lips...I can't quite figure out what I would finally say when he's here.

How are you? Have you eaten? How's work? There are so many things that could be said. But none of them were right.

The over-used reason for saying goodbye was the resignation that there was something wrong with you and he might be better off without you. But that was a big lie.

We don't suit each other. We're not for each other.

Millions of reasons. When it goes down to that, I was wrong. I was the one who's wrong for not understanding that I am not the same anymore.

He was late.

I was getting tired. I wanted to leave.

But eyes, should they see secrets in spaces that I've never seen before?

He was there. Outside. As though waiting for me to finally see him. And like the first time I saw him, he didn't exactly smile but he smiled all the same. I couldn't rearrange my face or my eyes...though I didn't need to. I've waited to say it. I can wait a minute more. For him to come in, sit in front of me and talk.

But he stood where he was. So near but so far. And I saw him say what I wanted to say.


It hurts.

It really hurts.

And he won.

He said it first.



Of mothers, sisters and daughters...woe come to the cities of fragility. As they throw stones to the Devil and turn away in all good faith. Mosques of refuge, flooring fears and tears with millions worth of time,'