I can't believe it. You're home. You've finally come home. You arrive in a van full of strangers, but it didn't matter. The important thing is that we were going to be together again. I drop the newspaper I'm reading and rush outside. As the car door slides open, our eyes meet; and it's almost as if I already know what you're going to tell me.
"Moe, I can't. I just can't."
"No, no, no! Not again!" I think to myself– shaking my head in both disbelief and frustration.
"Sweetheart, if you walk out on us again, it'll be the last time."
You look down in silence, and dishonest regret.
Minutes later, I carry your bag into our empty house, and you've left me again.
. . .
It's getting late, and you haven't come home. I'm worried because it's not like you to be out this long. I thought I'd look for you, so I head to the garage and grab my trusty BMX bike. It's strange, almost surreal, that all the roads seem abandoned.
My two-wheeled quest takes me to the corner of Hontiveros Street, where there's a small group of people buzzing about in front of one of the houses. I notice whispering and muffled laughter, so something's definitely up. Maybe they know where you've run off to.
I pedal up to the house and take a look. The unmistakable yellow beach cover-up and brown sandals tell me that it's you. The fact that your hair's a mess tells me that you've just had sex with the neighbor. Confused, I continue to stare as you casually hop onto his bike and throw your arms around him. My heart is crushed. I follow you to the corner store where both of you kiss before your secret lover rides off.
"Where were you?" I ask, trying my best to smile and remain calm.
"Just here. Why?"
No comments:
Post a Comment