SUNSET

PROLOGUE - DREAM

     The sun was setting.

     I felt her hand tightly grip mine. There's a rainbow in the sky though it never rained. The ground is dry. Everything seems to be blurry but I know it was really her who was beside me. It was Melanie. I know it was her. I've been here before. I know this blazing sunset, this fading rainbow, this dead silence, this lady that I love. A strong wind blew against the trees and I know that after that yellowish leaf falls on her lap, I will tell her that I love her. She will then kiss me and tell me that she loves me too. That is what actually happened but she didn't kiss me. I turned to her but she was gone and so as the the sun and the rainbow. The silence burrowed in my ears as the darkness started to devour me. She's gone. My eyes flooded with tears but before I could even shed a single drop, I was drawn back to the world of reality.

     And the sun was completely gone from the sky.

CHAPTER 1 - MY PSEUDO-LITTLE SISTER

    "Melanie," I spontaneously whispered to myself as I stare blankly on a notebook that is unusually placed on my end table. Someone misplaced my notebook and if worse, someone read it. Now, who the hell entered my room? But first, why did I dream about her? That was more or less seven months ago. It was her birthday. She made me a bookmark that I have been keeping in my notebook ever since.

     Oh no! I quickly sat up and checked my notebook. Whew! It's still here but it is no longer placed on the page where my very first poem I made for Melanie is. I put the bookmark to its original position and realized how much effort she exerted for me. I read what she wrote at the back of the bookmark. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for showing me what true love is. Wow. These simple yet beautiful sentences are way better than any of the more-than-six poems I wrote for her because she let me know it. She let me know what's on her mind and in her heart. I never even had the guts to let her read a single line from any of my poems. In fact, she never knew that I am a poet.

     It's the first day of my sophomore year and yet I'm trying to make a summary of my past with Melanie. How ironic. That dream was so weird. I know got over all of those sadness but it all came back to me because of that damn dream.

     I stood up and stretched a little bit. It's 6:13 AM. I still have a lot of time to move slowly and not be in panic mode.

     I went down for some breakfast and to my surprise I saw Monica in the kitchen, washing the dishes from last night's supper. For real? What surprised me even more is that she's already in her uniform and her cute, wavy hair, which is long enough to reach her lower back, is already gathered in a beautiful ponytail. I found a humorous quote from some website long ago: Do ponytails turn you on? If not there's something wrong with you. Well, I guess something is wrong with me.

     Monica Salcedo is a not-so-typical, fourteen year-old, high school girl. I call her not-so-typical because of her childish restlessness. Just try to imagine her as a machine with feelings running on perpetual energy. (Read: I'm just exaggerating.) One more thing that is not typical about her is that she gets along with boys. I get along with girls more than guys so that's why we get along together.

     We actually became friends last year. We were classmates as well as this school year. I forgot how exactly we met. Perhaps, I should ask her later. We became friends. Then, close friends. Then, best friends. We became so close that majority of our batch thought that she is my girlfriend. It was really hard to tell everyone who thinks there's something between us that nothing is going on between us. We're just friends—really close friends.