02.37 p.m.
Wardrobe's door wide open. Black. Gray. Brown. Dark blue. A hint of white. A slash of red. A bit of green. Something's sparkling at the corner, peeking out for attention.
I don't know your favorite color.
Black is the color I love most. But I think you hate it. It is the color of the dead. Or not. You like white. No, you don't. It gets dirty easily. Maybe red. No. Yes. I don't know.
I want to know, but you give me no chance.
03.11 p.m.
I pick green. I mean I'm wearing it. At last.
It's not your favorite color.
But it suits you.
I don't know if it suits me.
But wearing it makes you feel near.
03.48 p.m.
I'm late. I can't find you at the first row. You always sit at the front.
I head up. Heart bounces without mercy.
You should be here.
Find you at the middle row, smiling, waving a bit, wearing blue.
Sad, pale, melancholic blue.
Why?
04.05 p.m.
Everyone is walking out of the hall. Lining for foods. Taking photos. Making plans. All the endless see you when I see you(s).
I'm trying to find you. Again. Four feet ninety-five between people's backs and I am still a coward.
Someone taps me on the shoulder.
You, handsome and tall, kind smile and shining eyes.
Let's take a picture.
Warm, brown eyes, looking at me.
One sentence and all at once it feels like a hundred goodbyes.
04.45 p.m.
Cold tea lingering between my fingers. Two sips and I am done.
You are laughing with people you claimed as comrades.
Later, I'll tell you I like your laugh.
That one, little thing, I have failed to tell you during these three years.
And I have lost count on how many later(s) I have said, quietly and loudly.
05.00 p.m.
You are going to leave already.
And many years ahead without you lies before my feet.
Wait. I called.
Ah, you smile. I'll be heading back first.
Oh.
Don't go home too late, you say, don't miss your train.
My head nods. My tongue paralyzes.
You reply with the same nod. Bye, then.
Happy graduation. I say, quickly, as he steps down the stairs.
Thank you, you say while waving, see you when I see you.
I watch you leaving. With all of my later(s).
05.01 p.m.
Six steps.
I am never your home.
