Once upon a sleepless night

Lightning streaked across the murky, clouded horizon, momentarily dazzling the otherwise dim afternoon. It was raining, something that one does not expect on March days. When there should not be an almost eternity of drops continuously pounding over rooftops and umbrellas, much to a dreamer's dismay and a meteoric*'s distress. Yet, for Alchemines, both dreamer and meteoric, a downpour isn't really necessary to make him both dismayed and distressed.

Several students passed him by. To those who greeted him, he gave a terse nod and a weak smile. If the student did not know better, his half-hearted grin would seem but a slight twitching of lips. It was the least of his worries.

"How long have you been here?" some inquired. "I don't know," he said, for indeed, he had no idea. Time seemed to have lost meaning and importance just this morning.

"Sir, is there something wrong?" one dared to ask. "Yes" was the obvious answer, but "No" was the given reply. He knew the student was showing genuine concern, but none of them could help him anyway.

Did I sleep on the wrong side of the bed? He wondered. It was a silly self-inquiry for someone who doesn't have even a single superstitious bone in his body, but what could he do? He had been robbed of sleep last night —and possibly tonight— for a reason he wasn't aware of, or doesn't understand. Answers came flooding in his mind for possible ends and Alchemines thought it best to give the unchanging scenery a last stare and walked on.

*Some people use 'meteoric' as a term to describe people who easily get depressed whenever it is raining.

Coffee with cream, he considered, as he was holding his steaming cup and almost guffawed. So, what I thought that would best help me with this sleeping problem mystery is coffee? Well, at least there's cream! And he did laugh out loud, surprising other teachers and students dining in the school pantry. He gave them no heed and continued amusing himself with his inside joke. Not understanding what was happening to the young teacher, they also went on with their business. One student came to him though, wearing glasses and carrying books.

"Sir Mine! I never knew you could chuckle like that." Greeted the smiling student he recognized as Lovely, whom most in school call "Love."

Mine. He considered for a while, and beamed back. 'Mine' was the nickname he got from the students, derived from his rather unusual name. At first, he supposed pupils were calling him that way because they were having a hard time pronouncing his name correctly—or worse—it was a gag. It annoyed the newly hired instructor. But at length, through the explanation of some students, Love included, he found out that it was actually a term of endearment. The word 'mine' itself was a possessive pronoun, as if the students wanted to own him for themselves. Soon, he learned to appreciate the given tag name.

"Hello there Love, still not home? It is quite late." Alchemines said, noting the fast emptying canteen.

"We had choir practice for the graduation; the maestro would not let us go home without perfecting each line nowadays." She pouted and rolled her eyes. Then, realizing how childish she might have look, blushed and followed it with a shy giggle. The teacher laughed.

"That's perfectly understandable; your graduation is next Saturday, isn't it? Maestro just wants to make sure that everything would go as it should be." He said, vouching for the old music teacher. "Though I admit, he could be a little impatient on small mistakes sometimes, it can't be helped. People his age are sensitive, right?"

"Aha! Sir Mine!" Love jumped, pointing an accusing finger at Alchemines' nose. "You called the maestro 'old!' I'll tell him what you said!"