a couple of days ago, or perhaps it was last week, one of my "neighbors" in the place where i hang out came in. she usually comes with her bf in tow, but for some reason, she was alone. we shared a table, she on one side and i on the other. no, not the same table but two separate tables that is. i was busy with my reds, my coffee, and with my own thoughts.
then all of a sudden, i felt something was wrong. so i glanced up to her and saw the hard outlines of her face.
and so i wrote her something on the piece of paper lying around on the table, which happened to be photocopies of some chemistry notes. i could nothing else, thats why.
if only i there was a peso for every sad face that i see in women, i would be rich by now.
yeah..i wrote her something..and i dont really know if she kept the copy, the only copy of that something which i wrote. not my best work, but not the worse too. theres something about writing that piece in that moment that somehow made it good. if only i could have done soemthing to make her happy.
because her sad face reminds me of all the faces that i saw hardened and wet, faces of women whom i said i loved.
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