By the Window

She wanted so much to get off that seat by the window. Heck, she wanted more than to throw away that chair.

It was at an antique shop that they saw the chair. She was instantly in love with it. The curve, the wood, the paint. Everything was what she knew would be perfect.

It was in that chair that she sat and looked out to wait for him. It was in there that she felt the excitement of seeing his car turn into their gravel driveway. It was in there that he would come up to her and give her a day's worth of hugs.

But things changed. He changed. They changed.

Now, she wanted nothing to do with the chair and the window and the gravel driveway and the black sedan by their garage. She wanted to throw them all out.

For now, no one would be using them anymore.

Photo by: Annette Pehrsson

Tell Me Then

"Why won't you say yes?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know, maybe because you love me."

"Is that good enough for you?"

"Yes."

"But why did you even ask in the first place?"

"Because of the same reason. I love you."

"That's the problem. I don't know if it's good enough for me."

"What?"

"Yeah. I don't know. Maybe I believe that marrying someone is different from just loving them. Love is enough when all you want is to be with the other person, have happy moments together. But I don't think it is enough when what you want is the possibility of waking up one day and having to dye each other's hair black. So I'm asking you, what other reasons do you have for asking me to marry you?"

"Because . . . "

"See, you can't think of other reasons."

"I can."

"Let's hear them, then."

"Because you're a bitch. You're pushy and tough and you never let anybody carry you even if it means losing both of your legs from walking. You don't believe others unless they give you enough reasons to, like what you're doing to me now. You take your coffee five times a day, four of them without sugar and cream. And that disgusts me. You walk barefoot every six in the morning, wherever you are. I saw you do that here in the office, and everybody thought you're crazy. Someday you want to be able to invent a medicine that would allow people's hair to never whiten, which is stupid because you hate math and science. And you hate everything that crawls except for snakes."

"Ben . . . "

"Oh, and the best of all those reasons? You are an imperfect woman and I could do better with someone who would have lesser flaws. But I don't care. Because I love your imperfection even if all my friends ask me why. Even if you ask me why."

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Forgetful Night

The phone wouldn't stop ringing. The workload is enormous and the deadline is impossibly getting nearer. Her blood drains and refills as her heart stops and pumps. Her legs numb and prickles annoyingly alternately.

If she ever makes it to tomorrow unscathed, she would have a lot of thank-you prayers to offer. Stupid boss, she's supposedly on leave until the next week. But no, the requirement can't wait.

She takes a break for a while. Taking out a cigarette from her soon-to-run-out stock. She makes for the door, almost near its lock when she hears him grunt in his sleep.

Turning around, she sees him toss the blankets aside. His eyes open and find her. She smiles at him. He smiles back. And then confused, he goes back to sleep.

The doctors said Alzheimer's symptoms are very hard to detect. But once they start showing, there's no stopping them.

Photo from: cheeptalk.wordpress.com

All I Have

I wish we can speak. Right now, right here. I wish we can see each other's tears. I wish we can hear each other say we're sorry. Right now, right here.

There are too many things going on in my mind. My heart is just as unsettled. I don't know where you are.

So all I can do is watch the ocean. I speak to the wind, hoping it finds you and relays my message. I let it kiss my tears away, and pretend it's your lips that do so. I say I'm sorry, and let the waves crash on the apology.

Because right now, right here, it's all I have.

Photo by: Rachel Webb

Iceberg

He couldn't understand why she suddenly turned cold. She looked at him but he doubted she really saw him. He tried to talk to her, ask about her day, and even suggested one of the menus they had always enjoyed for that night's dinner. But she remained still, unnerved, unspeaking.

So he went down to the kitchen and called for pizza. He opened the television and flicked through news channels. He sat on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Still, no sound from upstairs.

He wished, for the millionth time, that he knew what was happening. Something was breaking inside his own house and he had no idea what was it. But like always, he gave her space. He knew she had trouble breathing, literally and figuratively, and having him around could only make it worse for her.

Thirty minutes, said the pizza boy when he called. He wished it was sooner, then he could call on her again. Every minute took forever to come.

Barely ten minutes had passed when he heard a blood-curdling scream. He dashed to their bedroom, bruising his knee and cutting his palm on the way.

At the door, he saw her standing. Her hand was on the knob, as if on her way to close the door behind her. Then she looked up at him and smiled.

The iceberg had melted. Or maybe, it was just its tip.

Photo by: Runolfur Hauksson

Alone

He left before she even had a chance to say goodbye. Ten days after, he wrote to her. He said he couldn't stand to see her cry. He said he would come back. He said he would, for her.

Years passed and not another letter came. She ran out of reasons. She ran out of explanations. She even ran out of the patience to wait. Somehow, she had lost hope that he would still come back. People came and went, if you ask her. Her mother did the same. Her father did neither. She had been alone most of her life, with the few people who were around her leaving one by one. Soon, she learned to accept solitude as her only long-term partner.

But when she heard that he's back, she couldn't help but be happy. There was more than excitement in her heart as she raced through the street. Even after everything, even after she said she's through, she was still hoping. She never realized that, but there she was, running as if her life depended on it.

Until she reached the place where they had most of the memories in. He was not there. She waited. Yet again, she did.

Night fell and no one came. The sun had set so suddenly she didn't even notice high noon happened already.

She should have known she'd been right about being alone.

Photo by: Kevin Aryoueyezee

Ripple of Flowing Crystal

She was roaming the woods, leaves crackled and broke beneath her feet. There was not a single tinkle of laughter like the ones she used to hear years ago. She guessed even the people who once went there changed. Just like the birds who no longer homed and chirped in the trees and even the snakes that hissed and slithered around.

Amidst the silence was where she heard the slow trickling and flowing. It started faintly and then grew louder, beckoning her, waiting to be found.

Run, she did, her head turning around like a cat with perked up ears. She looked through the leaves, atop the fallen logs, and in between branches her eyes could take sight of.

But there was nothing.

And then, just like that, the sun poured in. Beckoning. Waiting. Leading. Then she got there. Where she sat at a dislodged branch and watched the ripple of the cool water smile at her. She smiled at it, too.

Photo by: Nessa Kessinger