the Story of Today

Seemed like the rain knew what pain of unrequited love felt. How could I tell? My mind had been thinking too hard that it started to hallucinate talking to inanimate objects, like the rain. For disclaimer, just one minute ago, upon typing the first words of this blog, I was thinking about writing a touching-beautiful descriptive writing. Seemed like I could not help not being my other self. 

The whole cloud was filled with tear-shaped pourings, and if it was not identical enough, the tears that could have been produced by the tear duct of a grief-stricken man for his longing to a woman he had cared for a long long time was comparable that even it did not flow out. The sadness itself, is the man's recurring most profound feelings. 

Sipping away his coffee, watching the success of Elon Musk on YouTube and his love biography, the man had not griefed at all - not until the moment far after he returned to his isolated claustrophobic dormitory confinement.

A box of one-eight fraction of Tiramisu cake on his right palm, an umbrella on his left; he was ready to present his sign of affection to the girl. She did not answer the phone on the first call, but he knew it so well when not to disturb a maiden taking her beauty nap, as if she could have gotten any more pulchritudinous. 

There went he waited again, for another couple of hours, whilst turning his feelings into a harmony of ensemble, like any musician did.

At 5:44 p.m. she finally replied the unanswered contact attempt with a cold, but curious instruction to deliver what the intention of the call was.

He replied with a call.

"Crowne Plaza Element restaurant Steven Li" 

"Your cake is here, do you want to take it?"

Had you not noticed it at first already, the man was just a weird man with eccentric way of commnicating his thoughts. He was, an artist, after all.

Her ignorance of the man's endeavour at humor was even more impressive than the humor itself. Nonchalantly she said to him to wait for another quarter hour of nap.

Full of understanding and deep love for his fancied mistress, he patiently obliged.

When the time came at exactly 5:59 p.m., he rushed four sets of emergency staircases to the floor where his heart dwelled. More exactly was where the room of the girl to whom he had given all his heart situated.

He was out of breath, and was clumsy in his presentation of the tiramisu of love.

In Italian it means "pull me up, lift me up". It found its meaning and representation accurate in the case of the man, except the rejection of it pulled him down.

He tried to make a small chat, and she was trying to reply kindly as well.

Either the man's lack of sentences or the woman's lack of interest cut the encounter short. The man, nonetheless knew it so well that it was both, and the realisation of it ripped his already missing part of heart in shreds of hopeless dreams.

If only he was more sharing of his heart that cared, that went unshared until it died within his silence.

That man was called Steven, just for your information, and the girl was called Kim Phụng Vòng

Along with her dinner rejection, and all the broken dreams and crushed hopes that followed, he silently slipped back into his claustrophobic dormitory cave.

a man called Steven