Terima kasih, Uncle!” I paid the taxi driver some extra tips and made my way to the convention centre where the choir concert will be held.

There were two main reasons, I do things with reasons adhered to them, or else I would not waste my effort, time and energy to do so. First, was to show support to the choir because I was one of them. Second, was to catch a glimpse of her, listen to her voice.

She was the emcee of the show, aside from the beautiful performance, show case of skill by the unity of voices, she handled her mantle of making the concert a better experience for us all.

Some parts were cringy, she was trying her best, being the best of herself. I sat at the frontmost row to the left, just to have a better prospect of her, not wanting to see her directing the show from a screen.

Her voice, ethereal, an impetus for me, a voice that I yearned to hear, that I missed. After everything, I had the hunch of going up on stage to greet her, or something along those lines.

No. My conscience caught hold of me, not wanting to further mess up the yarn of tangled skein, I watched her in silence, staring at her for most of the concert, realising she is as beautiful as always, her swarthy caramel brown skin suited her as before, nothing much changed, just her make-up, an unduly approach, she looks the best without any make-up.

I took a photo with Joe, felicitated his successful choir concert experience.

I skimmed through the stage once more, she was gone. The jet black dress, her joyful demeanor, complexion, might be the last time I see her.

Walking to the door, apologizing to my mother who sacrificed her time to fetch me back home.

2300, I sat behind the wheels, substituting my mother to drive myself home.

Paroxysms of convoluted feelings, stirring up in me. I was reluctant to let her go, and I am ready to persevere whether she notices me or not, I love her. But, just because of my impetuous move, I led myself into the pit of nadir, where we became strangers.

I really hope that string theory, parallel universes exist, so that we would become couple in one of the possible futures.

A Letter to Her
Three Years
Hope. Joy..