The Ghost: The Woman
Jamia: ‘Where are you?’
Irina: ‘Starbucks,’ I said. ‘I’m having a burnout staying at home, so I am writing my story here.’
Jamia: ‘Is that a love story?’
Irina: ‘Hmmm, not really, but almost a love story,’ I said and placed the straw trapped between my lips. ‘It’s a sad story, though not tragic.’
Jamia: ‘Uh, I don’t like sad endings,’ she said. ‘What are you drinking?’
Irina: ‘White chocolate mocha,’
Jamia: ‘Why don’t you put a twist on your story to make it interesting,’ she said. ‘Like, the main character have multiple personality disorder, or the main character is bipolar and also too brainy for the average people.’
Irina: ‘Hmmm, I will think about that,’ I
A Chance to Feel AgainI watched her smile at the customer as she took orders from them, and she took their payment and handed them the change. Today she looks so happy. Even with wearing a facemask at work, she still manages to add on some makeup on her face. You know, just how a woman will normally do to look good. Well, I think her makeup isn’t bad, it’s her effort to look her best every ordinary day at work.She looks at me as I work in the diner area, collecting trays and used cups, plates and forks. From a short distance she watched as I wiped the table clean with a wet towel.As I moved from one table to another, I always caught her looking in my direction, like she is so in love with me. What does she see in me? I don’t know. I don’t know if she notices me over Kevin, who is definitely a good looking guy. She likes me, and she made it obvious and not a secret to anyone of us working in the coffee sho
Dream: Her Name is IrinaJane and I sat next to each other at the Mexican restaurant. We should have had our very first date at the Mexican restaurant I proposed to, but unluckily she is not the type of girl who would eat anything. If you get what I meant, picky eater, that’s it. There are certain foods she wants to eat, and also some food which is not her type, like tacos and shawarmas.And so, we settled on Kenny Rogers inside a mall. It is not expensive, though it is also not cheap, a plate of meal costs like less than five hundred pesos. But anyway it’s okay, for an average earner like me, it’s what you call, only sometimes kind of expenses. Whew.If ever Irina, whoever that beautiful girl in my dream, exists, I wouldn’t mind spending my two weeks salaray just for dinner, with someone so special as her. I can imagine myself jumping from a cliff for her, no joke, I think I&rsq
One Cup of Matcha Latte for IrinaJane and I have gone on a few dates together. We would ride the motorcycle and eat at different restaurants. We both shared the desire to taste a variety of good food. And for some reason, I noticed how she enjoyed taking pictures of the food prepared on the table for us, and she has a habit of posting it on social media, why not? I see nothing wrong, she loves taking pictures.And because she posted a lot of pictures of food and us together on her Facebook or Instagram account, at work they knew we were together, it’s no secret, me and her. I must admit at first I never thought we would click, I never liked her the first time I saw her at work. For most of the time, I only see her as a friend and workmate, and that’s all.As days and weeks had passed, the dates we had, the bonding and the moment I had spent with her, I got to know her more. And never had I imagined I would appreciate h
One Cup of Matcha Latte for Irina(Continuation)I walked towards her directions with a tray in my hands containing the brown paper bag, her orders. I am nervous. My heart is racing. I inhaled and exhaled in an effort to ease my nervousness, and I smelled my own deodorant, my underpit were sweating beyond control. With my hands cold and wet with sweat, I handed her the brown paper bag.‘Hi,’ I said with my voice breaking. ‘Here is your order.’‘Thank you,’ she answered in a very soft and low voice as she took the brown paper bag from me.‘Have we seen each other here before?’ I asked with my voice shaking.‘I don’t remember.’ she answered, looking straight at my eyes.‘Okay then,’ I said.‘Okay, thank you.’ she said as she stood up and took the little girl by hand. ‘Come on Mallory,&rs
Friends, Are We?The white painted door of the one storey house swings opened, and Christian appeared with Selena beside him. I watched Christian carry a heavy white foldable table to the front yard, below the big mango tree at the left side of the front yard. And Mallory ran towards Selena and hugged her, ‘Happy Birthday Auntie Selena,’ greeted Mallory as she gave Selena a box of Goldilocks cake. ‘Oh, thank you Mallory,’ Selana said in gratitude and kissed Mallory on the head.Selena wears a long red maxi dress with spaghetti strapped and a pair of brown slippers. And she also wears eyeglasses with a dark brown frame. She has brown colored curly hair, which looks like a telephone cord. And her skin is very light in tone with some reddish spots on her face, pimples, I think. Selena, as I had known her from our college years, is a very sweet woman. She is very caring to the people around her, and I think that is one of the things Christian loves about her. At school campus she acted
Love Letters Eric, All these times I've been praying for God to send me someone who would love me and accept me for who I truly am. And all I got were doors which closed before my face. I feel rejected many times by people I thought would love me. I almost stopped believing. I thought maybe I’m the hardest person to love and no one would really see the real me. But when you come, I feel like it’s an answered prayer, that someone finally sees me, the real me. I feel loved by someone who does not touch my body. And even though we're just friends I am truly thankful. I feel like he answered my prayers in a different way. I’m in a way thankful and content. I want to become a true friend. And I don’t want to be selfish this time. I am really happy for you; your heart is beautiful, and you deserve everything that can make you happy. I love you, Irina ***** Irina, Maybe it ends here. And we never happened. I never had the courage to tell you how I feel. Only if things can be easy fo
Continuation of chapter 36: Here I am still looking at his face, and all I could say is, thank you. How I wish that as he reads my story, he would remember me, us. Sadly, I know it is not possible, he forgets everything, and he is now in a relationship with someone else. It breaks me, but I must not show how I feel to him or to anyone. Something I decide stays within me, and only me. We spent more than an hour mostly talking about our high school years. ‘How come we never talked in high school?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I don’t even remember we’re schoolmates.’ ‘That night after the party at Christian’s house,’ he said, holding on to his cup of coffee. ‘I browsed our high school yearbook, and I found you, Irina.’ ‘Have we ever been classmates?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I will find out; I still keep the copies of my class picture somewhere in one of my drawers at home.’ ‘Okay, so you’re a keeper.’ `In our yearbook, you have very long straight hair,’ he said. ‘I love y
A Song for You I came in early, like less than an hour before the time we agreed to meet. I roamed around in the mall, thinking what I can buy her that is not pricey, something of value to her but she wouldn’t misinterpret.I stood outside a bookstore. I noticed the painting materials shown in front of the shop, and they reminded me of the pencil drawings she posts on her Facebook page. Irina, apparently has a hand for pencils. Pencil? Damn right, maybe I can buy her a pencil which can be useful for her drawings.As I moved closer to the entrance of the store, a woman in her fifty’s together with two younger girls, probably seven- and ten-year-old, went out of the store. I was thinking, children, they are now allowed to enter the shopping malls.I started to walk inside the bookstore, and on the first part of the store I saw a shelf containing different kinds of pencils.Why are there so many bunches of pencils? I thought. I don’t have a clue what type of pencil she use with her draw