Stories, and then Some...

and i finally saw a shooting star streaking down on that piece of sky one sweaty summer night.

"was that life or love?", i asked him. i knew he was there. his visits have become frequent of late. and we talk at that time when the city gets tired and calms itself for the day after.

he showed his face, a silhouette in the dark, and gave me what could have been a sheepish smile. he knew the answer, but was not allowed to reveal it to me.

"you know why i am here. i no longer need to give you the details." he was staring at the dusty trail of the shooting star before it faded. he turned back at me and smiled again. "this is an option you always had."

"i know," i whispered, "but not yet. i still have not run out of cards to play yet. you are defeat and you know that."

it was strange how he seemed impervious to the heat; not a single sweat down his temples, while i was already taking my shirt off with the sweat running rivulets down my spine. "maybe not. maybe i am an affirmation." he said with hands in his pockets.

i knew his face perhaps too well. it's a face that has changed a thousand little times in the past, but has remained curiously the same for the last few months now. the more i have tried to avoid him with the yellow-orange tinge on the porcelain bathroom floor, and now with popular Prozac's little brother, it seems that the caps and tourniquets i have set simply unravel themselves when he comes.

"and whose sick idea was it for you to use that face this time? what is this, a silly marketing strategy?" i could only shake my head at the equal parts of derision and amusement at the sight of the all-too-familiar shadow that his face made.

"you knew it when you first saw this face. you know it was an augur."

"yes," sweat trickled down my brow. "and because you happen to know that, you now reshape everything so that i wont miss your message. tinkering with the rules, eh?"

"naturally. just doing what i believe should be done."

"you take too much to yourself."

"and you do too."

no breeze now and my face was moist with sweat. my hand was trying to wipe it all off when i thought that sweat can sometimes help hide certain moistures that we would rather keep to ourselves.

"too bright, too fast." he whispered as he lit up his favorite brand of smokes.

i gazed back up at that patch of sky where i saw the shooting star just a few minutes ago.

"yes, but at least it was mine."