The Virus

How many times has he dreamed of being alone with her? In his fantasy, he has been her rescuer, her clown, her prince, her one true love…

But now that he is actually ALONE with HER, he is not prepared to play the role of a dripping wet disheveled cursing knight in distress as she enters the elevator.

He then tries to evade her pitying glances. He looks down to his now shoggy pair of loafers. Just a while back, he accidentally missed his bus stop and in the middle of walking the distance, the rain poured out all its mighty menace on him.

Now he is soaking wet.

“Achooo!”

“You can’t go to work like that–” She comments, her last word recoiling up and down his spine.

“Uh-huh. But I can’t go home either. I have a deadline before noon.”

“By noon, you’ll go down with the flu and you’d be lucky if you can concentrate at all on finishing your report.”

“I’ll take that risk– aacchu!”

“Save the virus and do yourself a favor, go home.”

“No.”

“You know what, sometimes, you need to think of yourself first.”

“How can I do that when all I can think of is you–” He suddenly blurts out. He bits his tongue and curses himself. How could he think that loud?!

“Wha–”

“Ehrr– I mean– why aren’t we on our floor yet? We’re running late!”

“Did you mean that?”

“Yeah, I do! We’re going to be really late! Oh, we haven’t pushed a button yet, that’s why!”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t really care about me. Because if you do, you’ll listen to me. I’m concerned about you getting sick. And you know what else? You’re not thinking of me at all, because if you really do, you won’t keep me guessing about what you really feel for me–”

And as he stares back at her sad eyes, he feels rooted at his drenched spot, dejected all over again.

Suddenly, she says in a caring soothing whisper, “Really, please Zach, take a cab, go home, change into dry clothes and be back before ten. I’ll cover up for you. Then treat me to a nice lunch later.”

She then pushes the “open door” button and waits for Zach to step out of the elevator.

Before the door closes, he catches her mischievous grin that turns into the sincerest and sweetest of her smiles.

Somehow, he feels warm now. Almost dry even. Maybe he doesnt’ need to go home and change?

But he can’t let Suzanne down. For today, he is not just daydreaming.

About walangmalay

Walang Malay is a figment of sentiments, of wonders and perplexities, of ideologies and dreams, of anything about something. Ako ito, walang malay... o nawalan ng kamalayan...

Posted on July 15, 2007, in Blogroll, Shorter Stories. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: