Do you remember when, in the third grade, you gave me a maroon Parker pen with your mom’s initial elegantly engraved on it? I could have loved you back then, but I can’t be sure now. We were young, and I only ever held your hand in dreams I didn’t conjure of my own accord. There was no romance left for you back then; I had too much a swig of a certain high-flying crush ng bayan to have felt anything for anyone else. Those days were much simpler; I could look at someone without falling in love with him, or falling out of love with the one I was pining for. You were nice, though, and I liked talking to you. You gave me that pen with the pretense of lending it to me for the day, until the afternoon when we had to go our own ways with our own sundo and you simply shrugged it off with a smile when I returned it to you. I fell in love with that pen, I’m sure. A decade has passed since, and in that whirling space of time I lost that pen.
I wish I didn’t, though. I wish I didn’t.
I remembered all of this only now, when I saw your name on my FB feed. In a few year’s time, I’d probably forget who I’m talking about in this aside. Time flutters by like a torn piece of cloth..