"I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.."
― Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
Lingling was making her way to the Mansion. It's barely four in the morning, but she was already awake and decided to tend to the garden. It's Sunday, and for the first time in her life, yesterday, she didn't do anything, neither feeling the urge to study for remedial nor to watch something interesting. She just lay in her bed, only getting up to attend to her basic needs and to eat what little food she had left. She hardly even fell asleep as her mind was still in a haze.
She didn't expect what happened to her on Saturday morning when she brought the young woman home from the bar. The memories of it keep replaying in her mind as if it were a broken record, and that's all that can be played. She is thinking about where she fell short. Is it self-discipline or just because she was extremely tired at that moment?
She didn't realize she was already in front of the grand gate until she was greeted by P'Chai, the old man who served as the guard for the Sethratanapong family for years. She made a Wai to express her respect and silently made her way into the green house to get her tools. The Rose of sharon and the hedges needs a little bit of pruning so she decided to it after watering the perennial flowers of Aster, salvia, roses and Hydrangeas.
She doesn't know how to face the young lady now. Does she remember what happened? Does she even know what she said? She was so frustrated and has no outlet for her thoughts and overwhelming feelings other than the diary she has been writing in for several years. Due to the overwhelming exhaustion of her mind, she thought of just resigning from her job as a gardener, using the impending internship as an excuse, and tightening her belt even more to save the little amount she had set aside in the bank.
Perhaps she is drowning in her thoughts that she didn't realize that she had pressed her hand against the thorn of one of the plants there, and further caused her left hand to bleed when she suddenly pulled it and drove it in deeper.
A mix of curses filled Ling's mind as she looked at the thorns embedded in her bleeding hand.
"Dammit..." she said, gritting her teeth in an effort to somehow ease the throbbing pain. While hurriedly walking towards the faucet to wash the bloodied hands and to remove whatever might be lodged in them.
