Bus Rides (and First Impressions)

It was past nine in the evening, and the mall was about to close. For the weirdest reason, I found myself worrying that something wouldn’t turn out right when you arrive. No, don’t worry. This is something new, I tell myself as I rub my hands together, while waiting for you outside the mall.

At last, after a few minutes of waiting, you came. I tried my best to assess this situation and not make a fool out of myself. You confirmed our meet up spot was closed already, and you suggested we go elsewhere just before you ride the bus to your weekday place.

I tried to do small talk, but there you were fixated on something you didn’t want to disclose. After that flight of stairs and another stumble, I decided to just bring you back to the bus stop, as you constantly reassure me that nothing is wrong. (As if I would take that for real.)

Why does it always have to be like this, when I go to such places? Always afraid of sending off someone close to me, and feeling they may never come back?

As I slowly succumb to the cold air, and the texts that came colder than your usual warm self, I begin to question myself.

It made me realize how much I hate buses.

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At the Back of my Mind

I took awhile, standing there at the corner of the street overlooking his place, one Saturday night. Texting him that I was standing just below the light post was not an option anymore. Not anymore.

After ten minutes or so, I began walking the long road back to my place. We used to love doing this together – me and him. I didn’t bother taking a jeep, just so I could slowly drown myself in my thoughts, and to let the idea sink in, that I may probably not see him in person again.

I walked along all the side streets that we used to walk on. Only this time, I was the only one walking myself home. I recall the jokes, the teasing, the surprise kisses in the dark side of the street. His hands that held mine. All that’s left are my hands that clasped each other to fend off the cold.

Maybe I never should have tried. But then again, I was always the hoping type.