MA Creative Writing student at UP Diliman from the Land of Buko Pies.

Also a runner, photographer, cyclist, florist, dreamer, and believer.

The sound of his laughter broke the stillness of the night. On his bed, he has been twisting and turning for the past two hours, with a smile that has been relentlessly present on his face. Between him and his undeniable fondness for conversations like this, was a little fear and a pint of dread because the clock was ticking and he knew that his euphoria had to end at some point.
 
He couldn’t bring to his mind any valuable reason to put the phone down, save for the fact that his body was weak and his eyelids were failing. Every precious second, he savoured. Every decibel, every syllable and every word, he let them reverberate in his ears, in his head and in his heart. He held onto every word spoken and they seemed fragile as can be; fleeting, like a snowflake slowly melting in his hands.
 
With a heavy heart, he uttered what he thought would be one of the hardest goodbyes he had to make. The moonlight crept into the window and on his face. And then there was silence. He closed his eyes that moment, feeling with an immeasurable longing and hope that somehow perfect conversations like that can be continued in one’s dreams. 
 
And he felt quite positive about all of this since splendorous things such as this tend to transcend dimensions, space and time. He prayed that he may catch sleep swiftly, hoping against the impossible; hoping to prove that the goodbye he just said was in vain. 

The sound of his laughter broke the stillness of the night. On his bed, he has been twisting and turning for the past two hours, with a smile that has been relentlessly present on his face. Between him and his undeniable fondness for conversations like this, was a little fear and a pint of dread because the clock was ticking and he knew that his euphoria had to end at some point.

 

He couldn’t bring to his mind any valuable reason to put the phone down, save for the fact that his body was weak and his eyelids were failing. Every precious second, he savoured. Every decibel, every syllable and every word, he let them reverberate in his ears, in his head and in his heart. He held onto every word spoken and they seemed fragile as can be; fleeting, like a snowflake slowly melting in his hands.

 

With a heavy heart, he uttered what he thought would be one of the hardest goodbyes he had to make. The moonlight crept into the window and on his face. And then there was silence. He closed his eyes that moment, feeling with an immeasurable longing and hope that somehow perfect conversations like that can be continued in one’s dreams.

 

And he felt quite positive about all of this since splendorous things such as this tend to transcend dimensions, space and time. He prayed that he may catch sleep swiftly, hoping against the impossible; hoping to prove that the goodbye he just said was in vain.