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Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Mike Hereafter

After three years of contemplating, I finally called Mike last 2003 on his cellphone (his number I got from his "Kharl", his best friend back in high school).

A woman's voice answered the phone. I thought it was his wife.

When the woman passed the phone to Mike, I could tell from his voice that he was ecstatic.

"Hey, why on earth did you call me?"

"I'm just checking if you're alive, that's all. So how's your quest to become a policeman?"

"Well, my wife would like to join," he was just kidding, of course.

As I smiled and giggled my way talking to him (it absolutely felt like freshman year all over again), he dropped the bomb.

"I know where you live now."

I tried not to freak out. Why on earth did he searched for my neighborhood?

"Prove it."

"The main road has a pharmacy, and by the corner is a line of rickshaws..."

He's got to be kidding...

"How did you know all that?" trying my best to be coy.

"I just so happen that I was there when I saw you cross the street."


"A year after I graduated...I was in this lab or something." There is a medical laboratory across the pharmacy.

"Too bad I didn't see you. Probably, I bought something from the market to cook."

"As long as it's not chicken curry." we laughed.

Now? I've never heard from Mike eversince. His number, which I accidentally erased, is currently used by another person (probably his wife).

He didn't become a policeman like he wanted to be. He is currently working somewhere in the financial district, in the twin buildings that look like rockets and has a sci-fi'ish name.

As for me? Call me in a state of limbo. I don't know where to go. Thoughts have battled inside me on whether Mike has forgotten me, or should hold on to the feeling and wait until we meet again. I don't know. Eight years have passed, and it felt like freshman year all over again. This time, I am alone.


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