By Marietta T. Geraldino
I knew by the icy chill in my heart that I did love him.
“Will I be able to tell him that?” I began to doubt my courage.
“I need to see him. I need to know why he’s leaving without saying goodbye.” I convinced myself.
My friend kept his eyes focused on the busy streets, while skillfully driving the jeep through the narrow route towards the pier.
He pretended not to notice my tears. He let me whimper in silence.
I could see the inter-island ship slowly pulling away from the dock.
“Please, drive faster!” I pleaded.
But we were too late.
“Poootttttttttttt!” The ship sounded the last long horn blast.
“Habebe!” I carelessly whispered to the winds.
I was naïvely hoping that the evening breeze would carry the endearment to his cabin….
Should parting taste like a betrayal? I thought he cared enough to say goodbye.
That was the last time I spoke of his name.
Because when he left me, my heart opted to lock his memories so deep within.
I prefer, where truth is important,to write fiction.~ Virginia Woolf
Photo by Bernadette Joyce Geraldino Geotina