The melodramatic and the metaphor

I remember she tried to make it work. But it was too late. It was just too late. Though we really have tried to make things work. For the two of us. Just the two of us. She was beautiful and she was fit. She was so damn nice and sweet. She gets along with my family. She was good in bed. She knows how to listen intently. She has that bright and sunshiny smile. She has vibrant eyes and a look that melts you to the core. Yes. She was simply…perfect.

It was a rainy afternoon. One rainy Saturday afternoon in July. I asked her to meet me at our favourite coffee place. I just bought a ring that will bind everything, life-changing. Almost suffocating. Everyone has expressed their sentiments. She’s the one. She’s a wife-material. She will be a good mother of your juniors. She will be a perfect partner. A perfect girl for my unsounding personality. And all that crap.

I was on my way. Really on my way. Almost. I decided to take the train rather than using up all the money I had left on a taxi ride. I even missed the immediate one. Then, finally, the next train has arrived. I crawled my way in. Trying not so hard to enter the carriage that would lead me to her. To my ever-after. Or so I thought.

It felt an eternity. Seconds and years passing by, magnifying my anxiety. I took out the ruby-colored box. I commanded myself to hold onto it, tight. I can see my anguished look at the train’s window. Along with the rain drops. Along with the pouring tears of irony. It was rather anticlimactic.

I am now two stations away. The door opened and another crowd rushed their way in. And I tried to think so hard. I remember I tried to make it work. To make my sanity work. But then I just saw the most beautiful eyes in the universe. And my entire world stopped.

I called her. Telling her I couldn’t make it. She said she understood. It was raining anyway. That we can always meet next time. But it took all the courage I had inside of me to be able to say what I had said back then. That there will be no more next time. That this will be the last time she would hear anything from me. She asked why. I had no answer.

But then, it took all the courage I had inside of me to be able to fathom what she had said back then. I love you. And I will always do. Words I couldn’t make out the meaning anymore. Words that felt so hallow. So empty. Because in that train ride. Just a station away from her. Somebody has just filled up my senses in ways she could never do.


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