A paper plane that made a grumpy man happy

The imperfect lines and curves of the letters he produced on the paper shook the desire in him up to keep his intention alive. It would be hard for anyone to read it on a first try, he had to admit. “Well, as long as the meaning is there,” he whispered calmly as if the inanimate objects in the room would agree to offer some cheers. 

He felt like his 5-year-old self who was always fond of the process of folding papers to create out some remarkable paper planes. He felt old as he could not remember which folds would result in a good fly, so he came out with the simplest and threw it out of the rusty window after giving it a powerful blow with the air from his mouth. 

Tailing it with his eyes, cheerfully it flew according to the wind direction. It brought his burden away, he felt easy. Few seconds his eyes were on something else, the next time he knew the plane was already on the ground. It appeared that it had hit someone—a nameless but a familiar face. It would not work if he would just leave the window as the man, the ‘grumpy man’ as the neighbours dubbed him, has already assured about the owner of the plane. Their eyes had interlocked for a brief second. 

He was nervous and totally was not ready to provide a solid defence in case the man would turn up to him and proves him the name he was labelled. Nonetheless, it was not fair to his judgement, because he never really get to acknowledge the rumours he heard of the man. The man seemed like a big guy with baggy wise stories to tell. 

He gulped as the man seen to unfold the paper after picking it up with a struggled motion to balance his body. The man’s legs were strong, he thought. It took him a virtual slap in his mind to validate the scene—the man waved at him and shouted, “I need this. I really need this, a lot. Thank you!” 

Fascinated by the event, he only managed to lift a little bit of the cap on his head as an alternative way to express an acceptance. He could not utter a single word. Unable to sway his eyes away, he kept looking at the man until even his shadow was nowhere to be spotted. He proceeded to take a comfortable seat on his favourite chair, let out a big sigh and acknowledged, for the millionth of times, the truth he wrote on the paper, “Really, nobody said it was easy.”

He has found the answer

She heads through the door trembly.

There is something about her. It catches his attention straight away. It is a relieved that he is still with his mind. Unlike the days when he had to put in and top up caffeines into his favourite cup for several times. Apparently, the caffeine is not helping him to stay still in front of his desk to finish what he has started.

It is hard to see through the glass when the reflected lights win over his sight. It pains his eyes. He tries to find the right arm of his glass and lifts it up. As if he can make the pain any lesser, and it does, with a little bit of rubs on his right eye and a few pinches on the bridge of his nose.

The traffic is purely at ease that night. He observes the humans of his town crossing the road and passing by the street. There is something about the condition that simply makes him very pleased.

He turns around and grabs his jacket from his chair. He checks out himself on the mirror before he is devoured into the dark after he passes the door.

♠

The bell on the door amuses him, as if he is always welcomed to come over. He sees the familiar eyes on the counter and reaches over. He orders as what has he been ordering for the past few months and tries to find the best seat next to her.

♠

"I live upstairs."

"So you saw me."

"Quite a few times."

"This is my aunt's."

"Oh."

"I saw you too."

"You seems nothing but green."

"I just love green."

"And why is that?"

"It just happens."

♠

For the last time, he splashes the water onto his face and then stares at his reflection on the mirror. The same man, the same figure. For a few seconds, the mirror is accumulated and covered by his breath of sigh. He seems loosen.

It is a different night. He wonders if the caffeine can put him on relax just as how he is in the exact possession right now. The meet was brief. The talk was short. It taught him something, nonetheless. Voluntarily, he is slowly engulfed in his dream.

He has found the answer.

She doesn't have anything to do with me anymore

"She doesn't have anything to do with me anymore."

♥

Her legs were weak. She broke into pieces and involuntarily fell on her knees.

The words were still playing in her mind, freshly.

She crumpled the old unfortunate leaf out of millions from the ground and let it tattered pieces by pieces by the ultimate force from her hand. But the force was nothing compared to her heartache.

♥

She pulled the knob. The door opened hesitantly with an annoying creak sound.

She thought of drowning her head in the sink. It was pretty much very welcoming with its perfect size and water-filled.

She stayed static at the door. It was just three steps away.

She uttered a curse at the sink. By that, she only looked at herself through the mirror behind the sink. She thought she looked frail.

♥

She curled into a ball on her bed.

It was a lonely night.

It was a sad song night.

She went off with the line from one of the songs; if you love me, why you leave me.

♥

There was a heavy rushing steps behind her.

She heard her name being called but she resisted to stop, let alone turn behind.

He stopped in front of her and gasping for air.

Their eyes interlocked.

♥

"I was about to tell you—"

"I know, I don't have anything to do with you anymore."

♥

"—I miss you."

A good one

"Make a good one."

"Sure."

♣

"I thought you heard me."

"I heard you."

♣

"This is the worst."

"You said make a good one."

"You did think this is a good one?"

"A good one doesn't always mean euphoric."