Falling in and out of love in 9 minutes

I stood there stoned, reading a book of essays on Ernest Hemingway’s works, firmly holding it with my left hand; a black sling bag was hanging on my right shoulder; and my right hand is holding a tumbler of cappuccino. I was doing all these while humming the refrain of “Bohemian Rhapsody”. I know I looked like a poor student eking my last, hard-earned peso bills to pay for the train ride from my condominium in Boni just to watch a free Japanese feature. For indeed I am, except that I am not anymore a student.


Still you stood next to me and even mustered the guts to ask me a stupid question which I only responded with an indifferent no. A response that articulately told you “I am not interested in commencing a conversation. I have far more important things to do.”

You hesitated a bit then turned your back on me. And in the tradition of bodily movements only admissible in the theater, you made a 180-degree turned, gave me a half smile then politely asked me to watch your line.

A more inert “Sure” was my answer this time.

You came back after two minutes with literally nothing added or deducted. I could not think for the reason of that action you did. But I felt it meant nothing. So there we were again with the dumb silence patiently waiting for our thinning chance to enter the cinema.

After a while you gave up standing like lame and left. I followed suit, but did not really follow you. In fact I walked too fast, too fast that I failed to notice that I overtook you. The last time I would see you, I thought. I took the escalator, descended to the ground floor, and bought my favorite un-dough-nut-like dough nuts there. Then I took another escalator up to the MRT station on Shaw Boulevard. You were on your way down. I acted as if I didn’t notice you. I did, but oh how I hate theatrics especially if they’re outside the theater.

I knew it would be the last time I shall see you.

And so here I am writing about what happened and looking at all the angles of my thoughts that time, asking myself why I did not try to be more earnest, why I did not allow a conversation to take place and from there to just let the moment take its course unbarricaded by our all-to-human tendency to shrink whenever we confront the unknown.

4 thoughts on “Falling in and out of love in 9 minutes”

  1. gosh i love this entry. so french… so “death in venice” by thomas mann. i’ve read short stories, poems, essays, and seen movies that talk about these kinds of chances, of lost souls wanting to connect, or lost beginnings. there;s something so powerful about them.

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