Trickle Blue

Denoument

I probably overreacted then.

It was rainy and I had no umbrella, but that was totally fine because I love drama, and the rain plus the bus stop was a good start. It's cliche yes, but that is the exact definition of the word 'desperation'. I need progress.

"Honey, you're not getting any younger. Find yourself a decent man and I'll run you to the nearest court and have the two of you married. Goodness, your brother got married at 24 years old and here you are, turning 30 and still a virgin!" Quoted by my beloved mother. She was serious, I think; judging by the hot glare she shot at my direction. And that was three years ago. I'm thirty fucking three and I still haven't gotten a guy step foot on my pad even once! Not that I didn't love being single, it's just that most of my friends define success as a stable, well-paying career, and a romantic partner good for eternity. The first, I obtained through years and years of hard work, which then took a toll on my personal life; more specifically, my love life. 

And okay, as much as I want to maintain the independent strong woman image, I won't deny that there are some nights that I just get bombed by fantasies where I had this lover---somebody I can go home to, hug when I'm tired; you know, the usual movie highlights.

It carried on for quite a while; until it got itchy.   

So I watched a lot of dramas and brought a lot of magazines, copying the looks of every female character I've liked. Surprisingly it worked, some of my coworkers finally, finally noticed my existence. But sadly, nobody was interested in romance because everyone else were either gay or emotionally and physically taken. And that leads us to this damn moment at the bus stop.

I tucked the end of my scarf on the layers of its other half pressed around my neck. These are the times when I subconsciously adore full on clothing as it is too cold for a normal human being to cope with. And the coldness wasn't helping, too, since I really have to go home to attend to the case of my sore muscles. It was then that a bus stopped in front of me. I took small steps, being considerate for people whom I have never really met, but that was actually just an excuse to make me feel good about myself. As a result, the screen beside the auto- doors informed me that the bus was full, and I had to step back if I wanted safety.

I grunted and let my hands tug on gray- streaked hair, to express the frustration I've been feeling. I looked ahead, and for once, the pedestrian lane looked inviting. I took the invitation, walking slyly as to not force the aching thigh I've been sporting for 2 hours.

And that was when I met the love of my life.

Love came to me in a red Lambo on a rainy night, stopping abruptly and honking loud on me, right after it splashed a huge amount of muddy water all over my face. It came out of its shell yelling and dragging me with it, pushing me into the passenger's seat.

"Fuck it, woman! Are you even sane to cross a highway with no pedestrian lanes?!"

I looked at him questioningly, and he only grunted in disbelief. I perched my knees on the chair and looked back the way we came from. "Oh." Then I sat properly, "I thought I saw one back there," awkwardly scratched the back of my head, and quietly sighed.

I can feel him shaking his head in annoyance. "I'm sorry, in any case. I am well aware of the attitude I currently am running on, and frankly, this is the best I could muster."

I didn't really care. I didn't know what to say, so I couldn't speak. Hell, I don't even know what to do, I'm not moving a muscle!

"Anyway, are you alright?"

Yeah.

Two snaps on my face made me face him. "Yeah."

His eyebrows creased, like he was worried or something, but he didn't bother voicing it out. Instead, he let out a crappy "So where do I drop you off?" question. Next thing I knew, I was standing in front of a convenience store, muddy, shocked, confused, and dripping wet.