Under the comfort of a ragged blanket she touched herself.
For three long months she slept alone on a bed made for two, oftentimes with tears in her eyes. Each night, her thoughts courted with the agony driven by the hasty transition from past to present, like an unforeseen typhoon.
Today she decided she has had enough. “I deserve to be happy,” she tried to convince herself. With all the courage she can muster, she wore her best clothes and put on the smile that was reserved for someone else. She was uncertain. But she was determined.
The rendezvous was thirty minutes away. She looked out the cab’s window and fondled with the bracelet she never wore. It was a gift, back when no such rendezvous as this one would have had to be made. Her loneliness hampered against her judgment that ultimately failed in rationality. But she would look at the driver every now and then, battling with hesitation in what she was about to do. But the ice in her heart sears with the desire to be melted away like frozen butter on a burning pan. She wondered if a sense of renewed tactility would be the heat that might light a fire in her heart again. She wanted to find out.
In the corner of two streets that formed a cross, she waited for the guy she only met thirty days ago. She fidgeted with her pony tail and walked in little circles. He arrived with the failure of concealing the nervous look on his face, the same look the mirror gave her earlier today. He walked swiftly towards her, but kept his head down and his eyes on his feet. She stood in the middle of one of the circles she drew with her steps. She stood there, motionless, emotionless.
He led her to walk and she followed. Her steps were carried by the fortitude of tucking away the past into an eternal sleep. They walked together but they were not side by side. One was always ahead and the other, behind. She didn’t mind. She gazed at the people in the street, the lady selling cigarette by the stick, the traffic enforcer who was enjoying the lady’s cigarette, the students who laughed profusely at a sick joke. She wondered where she was in this sea of people.
And then there it stood, a building that used to be green.
He led her to walk and she followed. 307 were the numbers mounted on the door. The room was cramp and looked as if it had been used one too many times before. The restroom was no different from a toilet in one of those malls. The queen-sized bed supported a mattress that was covered with plastic which peeked from under the un-tucked bedsheet.
He sat on the bed and she followed. He spoke of things she did not take interest in. When he was finally done, he turned off the lights and pecked on her lips. She closed her eyes and fiddled with the thought of finally detaching herself from what is already history. She started playing the game.
She thought that if she could displace the longing she still had flowing endlessly like a river in her heart, she could finally sway the loneliness that said hello each passing day. She thought that she could make her puppet move with no strings attached. But the four corners of that room, along with its dusty cracks and holes, were a testament to the indubitable fact that not even the strongest intensity of lust could overpower the love she still felt for the one that got away. With every kiss she gave, she waited for the taste of his lips. Every caress that ran down her body only led her to search for the warmth of his. She played with the beads on her bracelet upon realizing what she had just done.
She went home and sat on her bed, contemplating on the afternoon’s events. She wanted to find out. And now that she had, she wished to have never been consumed by desperate curiosity.
She lay down on her bed with eyes wide open as tears of self-disgust cascaded through her cheeks.
She pulled her ragged blanket up over her head and hid from the world.
