I made myself a cup of tea. It did little to thaw my innards.



The girl staying in #12-288

I forgot how long I left the door open for her. She came. She left. Left. And came. And all these while I've been kneeling by the door, waiting, waiting for her.

She loved to shout, "okaerinasai!", and then jump into my arms. We talked. Hugged. Loved. Made the bed. Ate together. Had cups of tea.

I didn't know why. But I was really happy. And so was she. My pulse was always racing with her around. Life was all so juvenile, so silly, so immature, so ticklish, and so, so very fresh.

I still could visualize her expression. Her joy. Her smile. Her happiness. It was almost like the sun of a new day. I often wonder how she could be so natural, so at ease. Perhaps she was honest. At least it felt sincere to me.

She definitely wasn't the usual type. Keen and eager for fun. There was no anguish, agony, or even frustration in her that required a big shake-up and jiggling to loosen up her heart. But she would be at a loss, each time I brought it up to her.



I took my time making myself a cup of tea and leaned against the kitchen cabinet sipping it. Only did I finish my drink I got back to writing this entry. I wanted to waste some time. And inch closer to some day soon, that one day in the future, when we can meet each other again. Every second that I move forward, is an inch closer to her.

Love, she has found, is beneath him.

She found him, by a rusted carousel. But he was just standing there, staring, waiting. He doesn't seem to recognize her. He looks like a ghost who has forgotten to die.

But he noticed her.

He said, "Last night I had a pain in my head and I couldn't seem to form a complete thought anymore. Couldn't sleep with that glow coming from the windows. Things out there watching me. And this time I thought I should murder it with a drink."

Taking a swig from his flask, he muttered, "Now, *hic*, I may be immortal, but I can verify; I feel pain, lots of pain. I know because I'm stuck with a lousy woman."

He continued, "I fear that to separate us, I may have to, to take measures for which I will be, unable to forgive myself.

Don't be so cruel as to force a mirror on a man with no face. Bury your memory, your memories of me, bury it, and salt the earth, so that I may finally stop holding my breath.


I wish I had the right words for you.





It is a joy to be forgotten."