The seaside town was adorned with Ferris’ wheel, roller coaster, and carousels. Banners and twinkly lights were everywhere. It was a full-blown fiesta. People danced to blasting music. You were there; so was I. I remember.

We were with friends; and went to the charming square, where people boogied to the latest tune. Shy as I was, I tried swaying. I had the rhythm but not the courage. You subtly bobbed your head to the beat. I noticed, of course. I notice everything you do.

After almost an hour trying to fit in with the unfamiliar crowd, we head back to our friend’s house. They decided to eat dinner out in the garden; we settled in on the lawn right in front of the house. You and I talked random things until we found ourselves lying on our backs, looking up ahead.

I remember that night sky. It was beautiful. The moon was nowhere to be seen, there were few clouds, but the stars were shining. My god, they were magnificent. When I close my eyes to reminisce that evening, I can still see it.

The quiet chatter and tender wave sounds that surrounded us were audible but at that moment, we were the only ones that mattered. You told me something I can now barely recall. Ironic, isn’t it? I remember the setting, the feeling; however, I don’t remember what you said, as you turn sideways to look me in the eye. I saw you smiling, as you say it. I remember myself smiling but I forgot what you told me.

Then the magic broke as they called onto us. They finished dinner and were now heading to sit on the grass with us. Some formed their own circles, few others decided to kick ball around. Then a person came over and asked, “why are you two not together?”

We paused to look at each other and laughed. “It’s not the time yet,” you said. “But I know we’ll end up with each other.”

That got me off-guard. I did not really think you felt that way. I presumed, of course, based on how we treat each other. But there were no words spoken. So I asked, “Really? You think so?”

“Of course, I do. I’ve known it since the day I met you. Someday. When we’re both ready,” you said with beaming, peaceful eyes. I smiled back.

The evening went on as usual. Balls flew from every direction. Laughter erupted spontaneously. Music died down gradually as people turned in for the night.

The rooms were full so some of us had to sleep on the living room floor. You decided to lie beside me instead of the hammock. People around us teased, of course, but you ignored them and continued discourse ’til my eyes closed.

Morning came on that enchanting, little town. Instead of breakfast, we went to the shore and walked silently. The sea was perfect. The daybreak was still the right kind of blue. You looked at me; I held your gaze, and we both grinned as if sharing an inside joke.

As we strode back to our friend’s house to leave for home, you put an arm around me and held me to an embrace. You inhaled on the top of my hair and said, “someday”.

An hour before midnight, on one of the blurry days between

Christmas and New Year, you texted you’ll drive to my house.

I was stunned as we haven’t communicated in ages.

You were at the area hanging out with your buddies, you told me.

You wanted to say hi.

Minutes later, you were at my front door.

We started talking.

You cracked inside jokes from before.

I laughed.

You asked how I was.

“I’m doing well,” I said. “Does she know you’re here?”

You were silenced for a second.

“No, she doesn’t,” you admitted. “But she knows you’re still the one.”

I chuckled, “yeah right.”

With a smile, you professed, “It’s true.

“I’m just lucky she hasn’t left me knowing that.”

“Don’t say that,” I said sadly.

“I still wish you chose me, though,” you confided.

Then, you commented, “he left you anyway.”

Chortling, I sighed, “yeah he did. But that was a long time ago.

I’ve moved on”

“Still. I never would’ve left had you chosen me.”

“I know that. I’m sorry”, I whispered.

“You broke my heart but it’s okay.” You went on, “anything for you.”

“Well, then, take care of your girlfriend so she won’t ever leave you,”

I remarked.

“I’ll do my best,” you vowed.

I beamed.

Moments passed, thunders were threatening rain.

You lived in a different town.

I told you to go on home.

You had a long drive ahead of you.

Ever so slightly, you brushed my arm.

Aware of your touch, I stepped back, blurted,

“you don’t want to get caught in the rain. Thank you for visiting.”

You smiled.

“Drive safe.”

“Bye, Maria,” you called out.

I was winded for a minute.

You used to call me that.

I smiled, in spite of myself.

Fifteen minutes in on your way home, downpour came.

You got caught in the rain.

I took out my phone and typed in, “I hope you got home safe.

Thank you again for visiting”

When you could, you answered, “I’m home.”

Another message came in, “I really wanted to hug you.”

“You should have,” I typed back. “Good night.”

You sent a ‘good night’ text with a ‘sleep well’ in it.

I was still up; I didn’t reply.

Days following that, you messaged me a couple of times.

I never responded.

I flew back to the city.

That was the last time.

Au revoir.

As dusk envelopes everything,

I look through the glass window in my condo;

I see city lights slowly come to life

As they flicker beneath the starless night sky.

Five minutes passed I come to

The awareness of my own breathing.

Inspire... Expire... Inspire... Expire...

The rhythm goes on and I close my eyes.

Being alone, I reckon

Can be compared to breathing:

Occasionally difficult

But always necessary.

Now as I inhale oxygen,

As I take in life,

I endure the fact that I am in solitary

In this wild, tumultuous of a metropolis.

So I opened my eyes,

Looked through the glass window in my condo;

I still see city lights but now they're completely alive

My breathing continues as I tuck myself good night.