CrAcKs UpOn HeArTs: TPS: (1)

“I never realized when it all started, when did everything become the way they are, when did all the pieces fall into place, when did I let my guard down, or when did you creep into that secluded corner of my heart and built yourself a warm little cottage.”

I sat still. The curtains danced in turmoil under the hostile wind.

But I sat still.

I sat stii. The dark clouds collided with each other and roared in pain.

But I sat still.

I sat still. The trees trembled as the thunderous storm approached.

But I sat still.

I sat still. The hefty raindrops smashed upon the glass window, creating an unsettling symphony of piercing reverberation.

But I sat still.

Why? How? What? Like building blocks, questions piles up around my turbulent conscience. Are you still you, because that does not seems possible right now. I can think of hundreds explanation for all this, but none seems to fit into the gap at the moment. At least none that can correlate logic with truth. I can solve any complex math problems; I can give the exact answer to any calculus, trigonometry, statistic, or even arithmetic questions. But I can’t, I can’t think of a logical answer for what you have done.

Was there a problem between us that I failed to discern of and solve in time to avoid this dreadful actuality? Lately, nothing seems to be peculiar about the way we reciprocate each other. You seemed to be the same loving, optimistic and lucid person that I fell in love with 7 years ago. Remember that day? When you approached me in our favorite place? You said you’ve noticed that I was always there at the same time everyday, sitting at the same place, reading the same book and drinking the same coffee. I smiled. Although I was very nervous, I smiled. With the faintest of confidence, I asked you the same question. I can still remember the strained expression that stripped you of that annoyingly assertive grin you have on your face, reveling a childlike smile accompanied by an untainted pink over your blushing cheeks. That was when I fell in love with you, for the first time.

What happened? What could have possibly happened that would drive you to do such a ghastly thing? This morning you were sitting there just right in front of me, eating the scramble eggs and tuna sandwich that I’ve prepared for you, just like any other day. The way you hold the fresh moist sandwich between your fingers stirs something inside of me. I follow the route on your face, along your dark bushy eyebrows, down your straight erected nose, and to your think but stout lips. After finishing your breakfast, I smiled as you give me that contented smile of yours and told me to stop staring at you while you eat.

I sat there as you pack up documents and carefully place them into the suitcase I bought for you as your 32^nd birthday present. The leather on it seems to crease by years of heavy workloads carrying your bits and bobs, unlike you who appears to look the same to me even after all these years. I took a few quick steps towards you as you were putting on your black leather shoes, grabbed hold of the dangling necktie that seems to hinder your breathing and pulled it towards myself. You didn’t looked surprise as I pecked on your freshly shaved cheek. With your eyes fixed on me, I blushed. I felt your thick palm behind me as you pulled me into your strong arms. I was frigid, worried that I might wrinkle up your freshly ironed shirt. But I can’t resist your insistent as I felt your hands moving lower and lower down my back.

“Wait for me, I’ll come back early…” You rustled beside my left ear.

Now here I am, sitting right here, waiting for someone, who will never return. How could you do this to me? What have I done to deserve this? Answer me! I demand answers! But all I get is a dead piece of silence.

I never should have picked up the phone… should have known better when I reached for its cold and shinny surface of horrid brown. I should have just let it ring…. Rang…. rang…. And rang, until it gives up and spare me of that atrocious news.

“This is the police station calling to inform you that Mr. Andrew passed away this afternoon. He committed suicide after shooting and killing his secretary….”

“Now everything seems to be falling into places.”