Wednesday, May 27, 2009


(The following post is a fictitious rendition of the author. Any person/s or events that may appear or have happened in the narration respectively are purely fictional. This is just a try of the author at fiction writing).
Let me call her Scarlett. It’s a favorite name. She’s attractive, maybe? But not a beauty to behold. I met her a decade ago, just a casual acquaintance. Her life is a figure of speech. Sometimes she talks and acts in irony, sometimes she’s hyperbole, at other times she’s simile, but whatever she is, I’m falling for her. She lived a colorful life. One that is a good tele-novela material for soap opera writers.
She talks sweetly and moves gracefully. Physically, she’s a good catch for a man like me who is baiting for a temporary partner, who could fill in my loneliness and solitude. I would be so proud to parade her in front of friends and acquaintances because she’s got a body oozing with attraction.
Why am I attracted to her? I love the way she talks, I enjoy her company. She’s someone who could ease my loneliness; she’s someone who could make me laugh. She’s someone who’s always and always and always willing to listen to me especially when I am down and lonely. Every day of my life, I want to be with her. Every day of my life, I long for her presence. But my longings are just desires that could hardly and impossibly be fulfilled. I am not a free man, though she is.
I would just be contented of her company, of good conversations with her. She understands me while my spouse does not. She cares for me especially when I am sick. It’s too bad I met her in my life when I am no longer free. She’s free but I am not. She's so young but I'm so old I can pass as her father. Her age is almost half my age.
How can I tell her that every passing day I am falling for her? How can I tell her that I always miss her company and the good conversations we have.
Oh Scarlette, what have you done to me. Why are you turning my nights into sleepless nights? I am starting to lose my appetite but sharing lunch with you occasionally gives me a very good appetite. It’s too bad I can’t have you as my own. But why were the others had you? Can I be different from them? Can I not be as good as them? Oh Scarlette, can you give me a chance?
I knew from the start that you would come into my life, but just for a fleeting moment. When you came, my existence turned into chaos, nevertheless, I enjoyed it. We understand the same language. We talk the same issues. We never disagreed on conversations; in fact we enjoyed sharing each other’s lives.
Just a look into each other’s eyes, I know we already understand each other. Just a snap of the fingers, you understand me. Just a movement of my body, you understand the message I am sending you.
Someday, when I will be free, can you be my girl, Scarlette? But you are my girl right now, isn’t it? Action speaks louder than words, Scarlette.

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