Chapter 6

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I sighed and shoved my hands into my pocket while walking around Central park at 3 in the afternoon.

Strolling around, I wondered how she is. How is she doing and when will I have the chance to talk to her again..

Of course...

It's Karlie. Its always Karlie.

It has gotten worst, missing her has gotten the best of me.

One step over the other, I let my eyes wander across the places that we used to hang out whenever we're here.

The wooden bench where we secretly etched our initials.

The tree where we used to sit under while watching people passing by, secretly making dialogues that matches the movements of their mouth.

The bridge where we always watch the sunset silently, holding on to each other's hand in silence. She'd always be the one who's breaking the ice. She'd always be the one who'd say the most adorable thing that would lead to a serious conversation.

I love the way she look at life. I love her perspectives. I listen to her, I listen to every word that passes through her lips while watching her green eyes glimmer as she looks at the dying sun.

Karlie.

She's every man and woman's dream, beauty and personality wise.

She's intelligent, adorable, lively and beautiful. She's almost perfect, you can't say anything bad about her but when you get to know her better, you'll know how good she is; wearing a mask to hide what she truly feels inside.

She isn't as perfect as people see her, she is flawed. But her imperfections made me fall in love with her even more.

Whenever she makes mistakes. She owns up to them. She would always see the good in things and think positively whenever she's facing a dilemma. She would never give up until everything's alright even if it hurts her along the way, she'd do everything just to make everything okay.

Whenever people says she's naturally talented she'd say that she's just always eager to learn. I could still remember the time I taught her how to play the guitar. It was pretty funny back then, she would always ask me how can I play the instrument whenever she accompanies me in my gigs. She would always tell me that she'd feel as though my fingers would fall off my hands from shifting chords from A to G.

I could still remember how I felt butterflies and fireworks exploding at the pit of my stomach when I held her hand as I teach her how to play the guitar. We were sitting on the bench, where we etched our initials, making it as our throne.

I could still remember how she whines about the strings being so harsh with her soft skin, saying that the strings are killing her overly exaggerating the killing part while blowing her fingertips, telling me that my guitar hurts her "baby fingers." And that I need to rush her to the hospital because of that.

But little did I know that she bought a guitar and practiced on her own.

She strummed the strings and practice until her fingers bled. I remembered that for a few months her fingers were wrapped in white bandage, whenever we meet. I would always asked her what happened and she would just give me a cheeky smile and a jokingly smug response, "I swear, I'm a better guitarist than you are right now, Taylor."

She would laugh at her own jokes, I can't blame our friends why they're looking at her questioningly and tell her that they don't get it whenever she's cracking a joke. She has a really dry humor but somehow seeing her laughing makes me happy in ways that I could never describe. It was contagious, her bright smile and her heartwarming laugh can make the whole day brighter even if everything seems to be gray.

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