CARPOOL

IMG_2913.PNG

Tonight, the universe decided to play a nasty trick on me. 

Of all the people I could ride in an Uber pool with, it had to be someone from your village. I never used to check my car mate's destination, but for some odd reason, I had the urge to do so tonight. When I saw the oh-so-familiar name of the village, I just silently prayed he won't be near your house.

I know you always hang outside. With your friends, your neighbors. I know you would always just sit on the curb in front of your house just talking to them or listening to music, or maybe having a few beers. Half of me wishes we could pass by your street, half of me wishes we won't have to. But the moment we entered your street, my prayers changed. I hoped you won't be outside. I hoped I won't see you, and most importantly, you won't see me. The house numbers continued to increase, getting more and more familiar as each moment passed. And then the car stopped. I looked to the right, and there you are. Sitting in front of your white gate, looking like you just finished a game of basketball with your buddies. It's been what, 6, 7 years since we stopped talking to each other? Since "things" ended, because none of us were brave enough to admit that we were actually together, that we have a special relationship. That we were more than "best friends" as we and everyone else around us loved to call what we had.

The guy got off. You looked his way. The car was not tinted. I looked down on my phone but I can still see you. You stood up and tried to approach, but the car drove off. I looked back and you were standing there, staring at the back of the car. I don't know what you were thinking, but I felt sad. You still look the same -- cute smile, messy hair. I'm in a better place now, but seeing you just brought back the good memories we shared.

I've always wondered what it would have been like to see you again after all these years. Now I end up wondering -- what would it be like if I got off and talked to you tonight?