I haven't seen the boyfriend in two days. The last time I saw him was Wednesday morning when he tried to wake me up for work. We were to supposed to go out together since we were both headed towards the MRT but I was so sleepy I just told him to go without me. I remember my first night alone in the apartment. Everything smelled of him. The crumpled sheets, the pillows, the blankets, even the curtains. He has left a trace so vivid that I felt his presence even more than when he was there. It was probably because he was on my mind all the time. When I buried my face on my pillow it felt as if I was burying my face in his hair. When I went to take a bath, the towel that I used to dry myself smelled of his soap. It was as if the room became his accomplice. In his absence, the entire room became his proxy.

It has been two days now, however, and the room has changed a little. If he comes home now he will find my dirty clothes strewn carelessly on the bed. The sheets are crumpled and the pillows are in disarray. He might see too the dusts that have begun to collect under our window and there is a hint of mud on the floor. I also forgot to collect the books and scripts that I read the night before. They now lay on the side of the TV stacked one after another.

In that short period of time, the room has become entirely mine. His things stayed unused in their plastic containers, his books untouched on top of the PC and his clothes are still folded neatly inside the drawers. I imagine him entering our room and being surprised with the sudden unfamiliarity of the place. And as he once again tries to leave traces of his existence, I imagine him walking around, lying on the bed, touching the pillows, reading my books, and being smothered, in return, with my presence.


Popular posts from this blog

sop tips (o kung papaano huwag matakot makipagtalik sa telepono)

para sa masa (or why the eraserheads, even if they are still together, can't possibly sing "toyang" over and over again)