Wednesday, January 4, 2017

what could've been

Photo Credits: Cars For Hope




It was during a long break from the nasty workload that I had the past few weeks, I sat down on an empty bench in the old airport of our polluted city waiting for my Mom. She was picking me up. I couldn't expose my eyes  as it is bolstered up with unwanted bags. I was wearing sunglasses in an almost 4 hour flight, pretended that I was unawake.

I saw this one guy who bought Cafe Americano and Mocha latte from Starbucks, which is just in facade from where I was sitting. He said with a very confident voice, "The latte is for my love." The crew gave a very hopeful smile. It was one of those smiles that is hard to forget, seeing it from a stranger.

I suddenly remembered you. 

You used to buy me black coffee while you are loyal to the latte. We shared intimate talks. The difficulty of being an adult. The Cons of independence. The hardships of having only yourself to be responsible of your own future.

You used to tell me how difficult to get a selfie of you and Sasa, your dog because she keep on moving. You told me a story of how admirable your neighbor when he saved your life in an almost car accident that could have killed you. You cheered brightly to second chances. You kept stirring your latte until the warmth escaped the cup, you are a good conversationalist. You always remind me to quit smoking, but laugh when I say No. You're an image of a person who gets joy in every little things that paint your eyes. 

I recalled all of this.

Months have passed since we started sharing these things, you asked me. I was ambivalent of my feelings.

"Do you want to be with me?"

I was stupefied. Then you kissed me. Oh God! This was probably one of the best kiss of my life.

Having second thoughts, I apologetically said "No" It was all empty inside, when I had to turn right after that meeting, and you needed to turn left.

Staring at the airport ceiling, I was vivified by a lady who gave me a cup of coffee out of nowhere. It was my Mom.

"What could have been?" I asked myself.

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