There was the occasional tambay who squeezed himself in through the broken fence concealed in its own world of careless weeds.
And the students, them in a smattering of books and bags that don't really match their careful steps and wary eyes. There were those who ran the long path of the covered walk, their still-wet hair all tangled. I remember that was me back in college.
There's Sir Mundz who looked below from the second floor of the Humanities building. Did he see me? Did he suddenly remember Ana? Did he think I was there to meet up with my friends?
And then there's the security guard who stopped and looked at me. I now think he is the only one who holds many stories in their indifferent yet honest details.
I'm losing grip of these silent moments that allow me to do a mental inventory of things that make me happy. And when even those details escape from me, I look at the sky in its surprisingly perfect blue and white. That's when thank you comes so unexpectedly I can hardly contain it.
I tell myself this is all too mushy for my own good but the leaves fall again, this time towards me. And when you're this silent, even their slow scrape against the cement is multiplied a thousand times.
Solitude holds a secret. It is devious and makes me think of making decisions at the spur of the moment.
Like, should I sleep with another man just to infuriate him who will only be just a name, a sum of silly plans and weightless declarations of compatibility.
Or, should I quit my job.
Should I go up to my father and ask him questions he will probably never answer.
Should I write an anonymous letter to the BIG boss.
Should I tell my mom I found her green notebook ten years ago.
Should I have shorter hair.
The court was empty and so everything passed before me like some sharp, snatched scenes of random lives jumbled up in a phrase that would go --
I am here.
And maybe, that is all I need to know.
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