We find ourselves on the rooftop.
The wind was chilly, but the sight was enough to warm me. There were pretty lights scattered below the horizon. San Francisco's night view sure is a thing, but so is Manila's.
I can't remember why I agreed when Leah called up and told me we needed to talk. But I can't help but to hold on to her voice at the end of the line. It was all too familiar.
I kicked myself mentally over a dozen times on my way here.
She offers a beam upon my sight. And I smile back, stupidly, because she looked so goddamn perfect. Years has done good to her. She lost all that baby fat on her face, and her hair's still a pretty mess, and her eyes still crinkle whenever she smiles, lighting up the way it used to when we talk, touch, kiss . . .
She pats the place beside her, and I sit down obediently. She stares ahead, and I stare at her for a long time.
"Kumusta?"
"Fine. Everything's fine," I cleared my throat.
I hear her hum. She shifts and tucks her legs across each other.
"Sorry ha, bigla kitang pinapunta. Promise, last na to," she says softly
.
I feel my heart sinking at the pit of my stomach.
"About that, Leah," I start, but she shakes her head.
"Okay lang Clark," she cuts me in, looking straight at me, "Naiintindihan ko."
The silence was thick and unbearable after.
Finally she breathes and closes her eyes.
"Pagod na ako," she starts, her voice cracking.
