60초 [60 seconds]

60 seconds (with you)

Sitting on the guest's table, he watched her with his watchful eyes. Looking at her elegance had already made his heart pumped of adrenaline. Rushing, he needed to tell her. He needed time to fly faster than it had already flew.

"Excuse sir?" - he startled, the waitress called for him.

He looked up.

"What would you like for a drink, sir?" - The waitress continued.

"Coffee! black coffee!" - He said, staring at his beloved woman behind the counter.

He waited for her to placed the cup of coffee on the wooden table. Yet when she came closer, all he could do was shut his head down and his eyes stick to the table. She stood besides him with the cup of black coffee; Not to forget a smile, she said "Enjoy your drink!"

He said no words, but nodded his head. He played the ring around his finger. He wanted to give it to her, again, as soon as possible; And to tell he couldn't live without her. And all he needed, was 60 seconds. He could either grab her elbow now, or leave her... Forever...

60 seconds? Is that all he needed? Is that all he ever wanted to make her stay? Or no? Did he need more than 60 seconds? 60...seconds? Or 60 years? To be with her?

His eyes attached to the ring, his heart raced against adrenaline. His ears red of blood and his iris watered.

He didn't dout it, the fact it only took her 60 seconds to come to his life. Even only 60 seconds for her to obtain his heart completely. He didn't need any reasons to fall for her, cause she the only whom his heart fluttered for.

And he didn't doubt it, the fact it only took her 60 seconds to walk out of his life. Even only 60 seconds for her to stab him with an enternal heart attack. And that he needed a reason for, yet his own eyes laid there. There as his beloved woman in a wedding dress, stood by another man; wealthier than he was, healthier than he was as well. Yet swollen eyes uncovered her painful heart.

Is 60 seconds all he needed? He asked again. What would happen next? After all of this? After he escaped with her, such as Shakespeare's famous play. He would certainly be her Romeo, if she ever willing to be his Juliet. Yet, what next? After all of this...?

He asked again.

He stared at her, the girl behind the kitchen counter. Beautiful, his heart screamed her name, every night and day.

"Hello? Oh, you can't pick me up? It's okay, I can ask for a ride from Jane then! Love you!" - he heard her on the phone.

"Hey! Someone sent you flowers!" - The other woman told her.

And her sat there watched them like an old movie with Marilyn Monroe.
"Really?" - She squealed in excitement.

"Think it's your lovey dovey man! You're lucky! He's wealthy as well! So when are you planning to marry?" - The woman asked.

"Oh, I don't know about that yet! But our families met, they're actually friends before!" - She smiled. As if living- angel was real, but not fantasized, she spoke.

He listened close. So... Is this meant, he was the third person...? He asked himself. As if his nervous systems shut down, and his heart froze. It was planned; And he was the third person.

What he saw, and what he suffered. He deserved them didn't he? Faults...and...consequences... For being the third one. The image of her in streaming tears, swollen eyes and beaten by her faithful father. It could have changed. If he didn't came into her life. If he never fell for her.

He blamed himself, for what he knew... The future of this strike of clock he stood. He never notice how bad he wanted her to smile, to feel like the only girl in the world. She was happy, she was in love, she was taken; before he came to her life purposely.

Is it worth the risk? Could he guarantee she will be on his side forever? Would the escape plan work? She could have told him... About the arranged marriage. Guess she didn't know it herself. Confusions and questions built up as mountains inside his little mind.

He twisted the ring. As his hand shaking, he laid them on the wooden table. He stood up, stepping his feet of pain.

Tapped on his shoulder, the beautiful girl with brown hair and fringes. White perfect skin, pink and full lips. Her eyes of soul spoke up innocent. She held up the ring he left.

Looking at her, his heart melted, his heart ached of pain; as if millions knives stabbed his heart all at once. He forced a smirk to her; yet closed her fingers to her palm, so she keep the ring. So she has a part of him, forever.

Ignoring her confusion, he walked out of the café. It was rainning, heavily. He left the umbrella on the proches, cause he knew she would be the one who needs it the most. Now that he was free to stream his eyes until they are swollen.

It was no doubt, it took 60 seconds, for her to walk into his live. And another 60 seconds for her to walk out of his live. Yet it was never 60 seconds that he needed to fix his mistake nor to keep her by his side. It was 60 seconds, for him to realise his fault that he would blame himself enternally.

And 60 seconds, was all for him to tell this story. The story of how fast someone could fall in love, and how fast they fall out of love. And how a 60 seconds fault, can ache your heart for millennium. 60 seconds...? Yes, 60 seconds are more than enough.