Thursday, January 13, 2011

Soft spoken.

The soft spoken song.

"河野伸 / 高見優 - I can't tell you why," played through his headphones.

M sat in his office. The windows battered by the sounds of rain. A bleak surrounding.

Last night, he had a fright of his life. He called her...but no response. For the next two hours, he tried yet again...but no avail. No signal, no sign of life.

"Please do not make me worry...tell me if you're okay every night? :("

The message he sent. Unnerving, painful.
A headache built up, worrying about what's happening in Brisbane.
What has happen to her.
As he scuttled to find whereabouts of his friends and seeking asylum in her words and presence, his phone vibrated.
After 5 hours passed.

"Sorry...was studying in the library. Got an exam soon. I'm on the higher ground, don't worry," she replied.

Hearing that, he felt his cholesterol levels dropped significantly, his headache slowly receding. And a calmness enveloped his heart.

However she rejected a call from him then after.

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