13 Aug 2008
It was the blueprint of meeting between two people in a feel-good movie: the kind that happens just before one of the two people dies. In the movie of my life, Jack would be the one to perish, of course, for the availability of a convenient C.O.D. (conscripted life in the depths of the Bruneian Jungles) if nothing else. And I would sit in an obscure corner at his funeral, watching the dearly beloved wail his virtues and touch his cold cheek. I would sit silently, numb with the secret of our perfect rendevous, almost doubting if it ever was.
He walked me back as we tried not to talk about us. Bye, he said carelessly, but with that look in his eye that pierced souls. Bye, I said with all the gravity I could muster, but leaving the only way I knew how: a receeding silhouette of indifference.
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