Earlier in the day, you had an appointment, an interview for a post. You called during lunch time, asking if it was worth it, if you should take the job.You obviously had apprehensions about the eagerness of the interviewer and how the whole process can work out a pass for you before your current one expires. I had doubts because they were asking you to shell out cash when they were the ones who were hiring you in the first place. Still, you wanted to think it over first and though I thought you already decided to forgo the opportunity, I somehow wished you changed your mind.
9:05 am you said was your flight. You'd be at the airport at 7 am. Terminal 2. "Are you going to see me off?", you asked. Though I already figured you were not staying, I still cannot get over the feeling of one's tiny trepidations coming to life. That's really how it felt. I was probably expecting you to say you extended your stay. It's like knowing the water is cold and getting drenched in the rain on a cold December night just to get a first hand feel of it. "I'm not good with goodbyes", I said. Just like you said in another conversation we had. Yet in fact the airport was just too far and that I was already drunk and I knew I could not wake up early. But I wanted to. If it means having to see you again one more time.
I came back home at around 230 am. I wanted to call you. But reason got the better of me. I thought you were already asleep because that's what people should be doing at 230 am, and that you actually needed to rest for your flight today, and I really had nothing to say. Because I've already said what I needed to say. I've already said I was grateful to you for reigniting my passion for reading. I've already said how much I would have liked our conversations to never end. How I very much like to never stop seeing you. Words. Mighty heavy hefty words. It's what connects people in some ways. It's definitely what connects us.
So there,I guess my brief affair with books and decent talks about films and dogs and family ends. You were coming back in January you said. It's only a month's time. But we will never know. It may not be the same then. You may change. Or I may. Nothing is set in stone after all. Yet instead of reveling on the future's uncertainty,since I already share a common sunset on a lake with you, topped by silly songs blurted out of nowhere, I choose to wallow on the simple and unpretentious memories we share. I may never pass by the lake without thinking of you. And how you would say that the colors of the sunset is what makes it beautiful, but I would still be convinced that the sunset's true beauty is actually its transience. It's transience which is now you and I.
There'd be a load of memories to go by. At least for a while, a little while longer. Until the 9:05 am flight takes even that away too.
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