Valentine's Project

Febuary 14

Another face drifted by and disappeared into the crowd. Each had bore their own stories, their own joys, sadness, challenges, hardships, pains. Everything there had been drew creases, slowly, line by line, cutting deeper, more visible till only the expression of fatigue dimly show. The many faces pass by, some deserving their two seconds, other nothing but a sweep of the eye. How cynical we could be, when we could discriminate by not just of mouth and hand but of eye as well! Man, whose lies they can spin faster then a machine, can only serve to self glorify. I took another sip of my coffee and continue looking through the crowd. It had seemed that every face could just fade away, as I look over anxiously for those features I had used to be so fond with. I sighed. How could it had slipped away?

I continued to scan before something caught my attention. It was just a moment but I hesitated not, for I had hesitated for too long. I stood up and dashed out the door, my hand clutching the old worn book that could be said a relic of the past. I manoeuvred the crowd, making painful progress. After all these years, could it be her? I kept moving forward, my mind drifting to the past in anticipation. I tried to move faster but the crowd slowed time and my pace. It was as if life itself was mocking me. Every time I thought it was lost I would see her face once more and my heart would rush with excitement and my body trembling, then as if to show my true predicament, I would only lose her to the crowd once more.

I finally reached a clearing and quickly glanced around for her. Then, I saw her, on the other side of the square, looking solemn, holding lightly the hand of another man. I wanted to call her name out, but no voice came out of my mouth. My brain told me it had come to an end. My heart did not. She turned around and looked straight at me, her eyes asking for help, before turning around and following the man further into the crowd. I cried, she was so close yet appeared so far away, unreachable, a mere dream from the past.

I opened my phone and opened to an archaic mail site. It had been so long ago that this was the thread that connected us. I composed a short message and cast it away, like all those I had cast every year, hoping it would reach, while knowing of its failure. This time, however, there came a reply. It was her. And it merely had one word.

“Finally”