Adrielle composed herself, straightened her posture and began walking again. Some rock band is currently screaming in her ears but it failed to silenced her thoughts.
It failed to silence her rebelling tears.
Don't fall, she scolded herself as she felt a fresh batch of tears pooling in her eyes, there's no use in crying.
She looked up in the hopes that what her father once told her is true.
If she ever felt like crying when she shouldn’t, he said, she should look up. That way, she’ll see the sky and how beautiful it is. She’ll remember how lucky she is to live and witness such magnificence.
That way, she’ll forget the reason why she wants to cry.
But as she looked at the clear yellowish sky, she figured her father was lying because a tear escaped.
Adrielle hastily wiped the tears and shoved all of those thoughts in a box, tucked away at the farthest back of her mind. She has a lot of things to do and articles to edit.
Just move, she chanted in her head, and breathe. Move and breathe.
She forced herself to look around. The time in between seven and eight in the morning is her favorite time. Especially during weekends.
It is the time when the world is just waking up. No late students running the streets or busy working people crowding the bus stops. It is quiet and peaceful with a few oldies who are used to wake up early everyday.
But you crossed paths with him, a small voice whispered in her mind.
Adrielle did not entertain the thought and watched a granny on the other side of the street, a cup of steaming coffee on her unsteady hands. The granny is about to cross the street.
Her heart skipped a beat. A car might come anytime and although she’s not thinking every driver is reckless and rude, she can’t be sure.
To her relief, a guy took the coffee from the granny’s hand and guided her to safely cross the streets. He raised his palm as a gesture to slow down when a car came. The car obliged and the granny shouted a hoarse, “good day!” that probably made everyone near the vicinity to smile.
Because Adrielle did.
When the guy turned around after giving back the coffee to the granny, Adrielle’s eyes widen a fraction. He is familiar.
Familiar black hair, body built and eyes.
She gulped and blinked a couple of times before realizing she’s wrong.
Her smile turned bitter as she reprimanded herself. So stupid of her to think that guy is her father. The father she love and hate so damn much it crushes everything inside her. The father who left them without saying goodbye.
When she finally got a full view of the guy as he walk closer, she’s transported back in time. For a moment she can almost see an eight-year old her, happily waving her hands while her father gently smiled at her, patting her head like he always does before going to work.
The only difference of that morning to every morning that came before it is instead of saying 'be a good girl to Mama' before going to work, her father hugged her tight while whispering the words, ‘it’s fine to cry once in a while but not always. Papa doesn’t like it when you’re always crying, okay? Be a good girl for Papa.’
