The Presence

There was something very different about this hotel. She felt that there was something special about that moment. She always sensed his presence.


She breathed carefully, savoring the air that must have run through his body before it entered hers. She wanted him to be so close to him that even air knows no escape.


She looked at the painting on the wall. It had definitely been admired by a pair of wide, curious eyes. She felt like gazing into those eyes and find her world inside them.


As she pushed the door open, she knew he must have went through the same door, touched the same knob. She could feel his hands pressing hers over the knob, while he smelt the scent of her hair.


As she walked past a display glass showcasing jewellery, a pendant caught her attention. He must have noticed it, asked for its cost and ordered it. She could feel him holding her from behind, bringing his hands up from her waist to her neck, placing the pendant there, shifting her hair to one side, and tying the neckpiece.


She walked over to the bar and took a seat. She breathed heavy now. Her heart paced faster. He was near. She could feel it. She trembled. She was out of her mind, and her heart was out of her. She could take it no longer.


"Excuse me madam, but this pendant needs you to embellish it by placing it over your neck."


It was him, so near, right behind her. She felt as if she was dead.


Only she knew how tough it was for her but she managed to turn around and look at him.


"Listen, your presence alone is intolerable to me, you get it?", she said sternly and walked away immediately.


"Literally!", she sighed beneath her breath, as she still tried to bring her heartbeat under control.

Some rain and some coffee

"It's Raining!"
She had to scream to make her voice reach his ears amidst the roaring thunder.

"Yea, and if we don't find a shelter soon, the rain will wash away your make up",
he smiles devilishly at her,
"and I certainly don't want that to happen."

"Why is that?"

He keeps walking and smiles secretly, without looking at her.
She has to run to keep up with his pace.

"Tell me", she raises her voice, "why is that?"

"You think I would look ugly without makeup? You think your 'wow-figure" colleague looks any better without makeup?"

"I just don't understand....You men! You want a girlfriend to straighten your bow tie before you leave for a meeting, and a bitch for an eye candy....."

She keeps screaming at him but his ears have successfully managed to block out her continuous rants.
He imagines her with wet hair, without any make up, fresh skin, smelling only of her......


There's a secret that she would never believe.
He loves the pimple on her forehead, that she tries hard to conceal. It makes him smile because he knows he's the only one who can get so close to her to notice it, and he feels relieved that he loves no plastic, but a beautiful real woman in flesh and bones.


He only wishes that she understands that she doesn't have to try one bit to make him adore her.
It is so automatic!

"It is so automatic!", he hears her say.

"Huh?", he looks at her.

"I said, it is so automatic for you men to gaze at 'other' women, who they think are prettier"

He noticed he couldn't feel rain drops falling over his shoulders any more. They were standing at the entrance of a coffee shop, spacious with lots of tables, but only one occupied, by an old couple.


He hung his coat, she took out her handkerchief and wiped her face.
It wiped her beauty off her, she frets.
It wiped her ignorance off her, he thinks.


They took a table.

"Two Cappuccino, please", he ordered

She lay her head over the table and looked into his eyes.

"I know I'm not that pretty without makeup. But I want to be the prettiest girl you've ever seen. And that's why I'm so hurt, and I called you names, and yelled at you, and called that woman a bitch."

He is so in love with her, he thinks.

"I'm not sorry about the last one though"

He knows she wants him to say something, but he doesn't because all he wants to do is listen to the voice that stirs his soul.

"It's hard to hear things that made you try so hard so you don't have to hear them......"

"That's exactly what your problem is", he interrupts her.

"You try too hard....when baby, you don't need to"

She listens calmly.

"With make up, you are the prettiest girl I've ever seen.
Without make up, I'm sure, you are even prettier....
And you certainly are the only woman that I find pretty when she's yelling at me." He winks.

"I didn't want your make up to be washed off because it is so automatic for men to gaze at other women.....And I can't stand another man glancing at you."

"Thank God for it's Sunday, it's raining, your make up is washed off, and there are no young men in here to gaze at you"

"And this coffee mug.....I thank it....It's the first one that'll not carry your lipstick mark for anyone to see"


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It's raining!
She is wet and water drips off her hair. 
A shiver runs through her as the drops seep into the soil and she can smell the aroma of cappuccino rise from his grave beneath the Earth.
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