Gooey.

Remember back when I rhyme?
with the moon and the sun,
I was laughing, playing, anything
And it was less for a dime.

But remember how suddenly everything taste like crime?
Washing sadness with the spoon and the gun,
I hated something, everything, anything
And I wanted less time.

Now, I found myself wanting to rhyme
for someone is making me swoon and so fun,
I am smiling, living, trying
And I need more time.

I don't give a damn.

I don't give a damn,
When the clothes are stacked not according colour scheme,
When the door left slightly ajar or
when someone left the cap off the tube of cream.

I don't give a damn,
When my feet ache,
When my lungs are constricted or
when my fingers start to shake.

But I do give a damn,
I do,
I do,
And it all comes back to you.

Like it was nothing.

My right hand was trembling again today. The others saw it. I hid it under the table, as they pretended to look away and busying themselves over nothing.

It won't stop, the trembling. And I had to continuously squeeze my hand and held it tight, trying as I can to make it stop. But it won't.

Tears were forming and they started to notice. No one moved though, and I was glad.

So I did what I can do best. I slammed my hand hard on the table.

Everyone looked. I laughed and said there was a cockroach.

They gave me a nervous smile. Eyes still checking my hand.

It stopped trembling.

So I stood up from my table, beamed a big smile and walked out the staff room.

blurp the third.

There was something warm next to me. I was sure of it. Mona must have let in the stupid big ass cat again. So warm. And smell like… shampoo? What the. I opened my eyes and squint through the glare from the sunlight. 

I slowly got up and got down from the bed. I rubbed my eyes again. Sure enough, she was there facing towards me. Eyes closed, mouth opened slightly, and snoring. She was still wearing her clothes, and I got a little disappointed. I was still dazed from waking up. I tried remembering what happen last night.

She seemed upset. She sat staring at nothing for hours when I finally joined her at her table. It took me loads of courage to get up to her that night. I always had a thing for her even though there was nothing interesting about her. She always sat at the same table. Ordered the same thing. Fiddled with her necklace, biting her lips when concentrating. And that was it. But I fell hard.

After talking, I found out that she had missed the train back home. I offered her a lift.  She quirked an eyebrow when I got to my motorcycle. Good thing Ryan had an extra helmet. It was like destiny. Cheesy I know. I asked if she would like to hang out for awhile and get something to eat considering she was imitating a corpse for a couple of hours. She laughed this horrible laugh and said yes.

The best thing about last night, she had never ridden on a motorcycle before. My heart did jumping jacks when she put her hands around me. When we got to a restaurant, I found out for a skinny girl, she ate a lot. And I mean, cleaned plate a lot. We split a banana split and I found out more about her...

She was boring as hell but still melts my heart when her tongue darted out to lick her lips. She noticed I was staring, and she placed her hand on my face and trace my lips with her fingers.

One thing lead to another, I ended up sneaking her up to my room. No, we didn’t kiss, heck from the look of it nothing happened. We just talked and cuddled. She was soft, she smelled like shampoo and she had this horrible laugh. Why do I like her again?

She stirred a bit and buried her face into my pillow. MY PILLOW! It seemed that she did not recognize it when she faced me back and opened her eyes. The moment she saw me, she smiled. A brilliant-weakened –the-knees smile.

“Good morning Geoff.”

They said.

I kept telling them,

there is something wrong.

I need help.

Do something.

Guess what ?

Everything is fine, they said.

You're thinking too much, they said.

You sure you're not imagining it? they asked.

Idiots.

Look at what you did.

The amount of time you wasted.

Sleep with that.

Comfortably Numb

Hannah once asked me, in that cold emotionless tone of hers, "how many times do you need to be disappointed in life before you just feel numb and stop having feelings?" It was easier to answer back then because I was the happier of us two. The answer was six.

I'm way over pass 26 disappointments this past two years and I still can't have that numbness she had. I was about to feel jealous, but considering that she's a year older and dead, I.. oh heck I am jealous of that fact.

And once, when I was listening to her favorite, Comfortably Numb, she said, "I don't get why people start over. You just have one life, you don't start over, you just go and fucking move on." I didn't know what to say at that time, I just shrugged. Arguing with Hannah would often feel like arguing with a rock, I should know, but she did make a lot of sense.

The closest I got into having that numbness is when I start to clean. Having slobs as housemate helps. Ended up waking at 3am and cleaning the kitchen was somehow liberating. Just focusing on scrubbing every inch of the cooker, organising or rather reorganising every thing into order. Where should go where. How the plates should be stack. Having a spotless sink. I get all smiley and happy seeing everything in order. Annoyed the hell out of my housemates though.

Yeah I don't know why I'm writing this too. I'm not numb as I wish I was. And as we all know, what I wish would happen, certainly won't. There you go, a blast of pessimist for ya.

Not a genius.

He looked at her sleeping body next to him. He put on a pants and dragged his feet towards the kitchen. He mumbled some thoughts out loud. He was still perplexed to her request. He took out some cans and chips. He sat in the darkness of the kitchen with only the dim light from the refrigerator that he never even bother to close tightly.

"What is this Jannah she talks about?" he mused after downing the fourth Guinness.

.

Hush now, hush.
For I have a secret.
I swept it under the rug
but Johnny came and pull the plug.

Be still now, still.
For I have a secret.
I buried it in the backyard
but Michael just had to tell the guard.

Look at me, look.
For I have a secret.
I nailed it behind the wall
but Adam was listening to the call.

Great.

blurped.

He left hastily, but not before handing me an envelope. I stared at his figure till he was nowhere in sight. He looked fat nowadays. Guess he really is happier. Geoff, the waiter gave me a small smile as I fiddled with the envelope.

“Well open it,” said Geoff as he walked past me towards the restroom. He adjusted the frame that holds my napkin as it was askew. I wonder if I really can ask the owner if I can have the napkin back. Then maybe I can have this elaborate ceremonial burning. And everyone can wear black. I'll pay people to cry over it. 

I sighed and looked around. A group of friends talking animatedly, a couple in a vomit-inducing love scene, an awkward guy looking very awkward with a stranger trying to talk to him, parents busying themselves on the latest gadget. Boring. Life is getting boring.

I shook my head and focused on the envelope. I slowly tear the ends and took a peek inside. There was a ring and a letter. It read:

I’m sorry. I bought this last year for you. I want you to have it. I still love you, but we just not meant to be. So I was thinking  Probably would be best if

That bloody bastard. 

"So..?" Geoff asked. He got that little twinkle in his eyes. Excited maybe. 

"He didn't finish writing it"

"Actually my dear, he did," said Geoff with a sigh.

blurp blurp

He rushed up the escalator and entered the cafe hastily. He did a quick scan and found her, facing away from him, on the table at the far end corner, exactly where he expected her to be. He checked his reflection in the mirror, satisfied that there is no indication of any recent excessive cardio movement had been done; he took slow strides towards what was used to be their table.

He ensured that his steps are quiet as he got closer to her.

“Don’t think about it,” she said. He rolled his eyes and plopped down on the seat in front of her. She chuckled and called the waiter. He ordered his usual coffee seeing that she had opted her usual as well.

Then it was silence. She didn’t say a word and had her eyes fixed on a frame. He followed her gaze and snorted, of course she would stare at that scribbles. He remembered how five years ago she wrote him a love story on the napkin and he had forgotten it. The café owner found the napkin and fell in love with it. He had it frame and hung it up right next to the entrance of the toilet. A highly inappropriate place for a love story so she would often joke maybe the story reminds the owner of crap.

“I wonder if the owner would let me have it back,” she said.

“Do you want me to ask?” he offered. “No. It’s stupid,” she replied.

The waiter came and placed his coffee in front of him and a cheesecake for her. She took a bite and pushed the plate towards him. He smiled his crooked smile and took a bite of it.

“You haven’t changed that much. It has been what, 7 months?”

This time it was her that snorted. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors. You know better than that. Besides, I’m still that perfect angel everyone wants me to be,” she said while drawing a halo using her fingers. He quirked an eyebrow at her, she was right, he knew better. “Bullshit,”

“Alright, I might’ve gone a little trip down the dark side. They have divine cookies and I had had my fun. The prodigal daughter hath return,”

“Well you were never the one that follows logic or earthly reasons. Stubborn and rebellious that you are,” he leaned his back on the chair and looked at her. Her hair had grown out from that unfortunate day of breakdown. He remembered how everyone was worried when she went missing for two days, only to come back with a haircut and a tan. He shook his head, trying to get the hollow image of her out of his head. He muttered an observation to her “your hair is longer,”

“No shit Sherlock,” she said. He fiddled with the idea to keep her reeling, just for the heck of it, when he noticed her eyes. Those brown eyes are now muddy, dark and some other adjective that he can’t seem to place to describe it. He realized what he is doing now wrong.

He tried making the conversation light and steering the conversation away from certain subjects. He was glad that she was being herself; making lame jokes and sometimes would space out a little, nothing a kick in the shin won’t fix. He relished every death glare that he earned from each kick; well that part certainly has not change.

An hour past of their caustic comments and witty banter, when his phone started to vibrate like crazy in his jeans pocket.

I need you.

His face turns into a grimace and when he looked at her, he knew that she knew who texted 

him. “I’ve got to go,” he simply state. She looked away from him and tugging at the hem of her shirt. She tucked her hair behind her ears and slightly nodded.

“Happy what-it-might’ve-been the seventh year,” she whispered. He heard it anyways. He got up and placed the envelope in front of her. He then left the café. Again, leaving her behind.

PS: I'm trying really hard to finish the story, so pull out that stick up your ass k. Sabar. Relax. Sooner or later I'll finish the damn story. For now enjoy this short one.