caterpillar,
One
He saw her first.
She was a regular at the café in front of his studio, the one he goes to during breaks. She always sat at the table in the farthest corner, a circular one, so that she doesn’t look alone. He sat at a square table, so that he looked like he wanted her company. He lost count of the stolen glances in between sips of coffee and tea, bites of muffins and strudels. But he can’t deny the pull he feels whenever his eyes fall on hers.
Two
He liked her first.
They started sharing a table after only a week of shy smiles and acknowledgements. No matter how she saw it, he found everything about her interesting. From the way she neatly folded her straw wrappers to the rarity of her pure smiles, he thought her captivating. He couldn’t stop talking about her laughs, frowns, and yawns. No matter how she saw it, he liked her first.
Three
He loved her first.
He couldn’t really pinpoint the moment he knew he loved her. It could’ve been the moment she told him her secrets. Or the moment they shared an umbrella when he dropped her off at home. Or the moment he saw her love another man. But he knew he loved her first.
He can never tell her these things. Just like how I can never tell him that he is all of my firsts and all of my lasts.
Literary (Submission): Three Things He Can Never Tell Her
One
He saw her first.
She was a regular at the café in front of his studio, the one he goes to during breaks. She always sat at the table in the farthest corner, a circular one, so that she doesn’t look alone. He sat at a square table, so that he looked like he wanted her company. He lost count of the stolen glances in between sips of coffee and tea, bites of muffins and strudels. But he can’t deny the pull he feels whenever his eyes fall on hers.
Two
He liked her first.
They started sharing a table after only a week of shy smiles and acknowledgements. No matter how she saw it, he found everything about her interesting. From the way she neatly folded her straw wrappers to the rarity of her pure smiles, he thought her captivating. He couldn’t stop talking about her laughs, frowns, and yawns. No matter how she saw it, he liked her first.
Three
He loved her first.
He couldn’t really pinpoint the moment he knew he loved her. It could’ve been the moment she told him her secrets. Or the moment they shared an umbrella when he dropped her off at home. Or the moment he saw her love another man. But he knew he loved her first.
He can never tell her these things. Just like how I can never tell him that he is all of my firsts and all of my lasts.
I see myself in this blog :(
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