current music: silence, but I hear "Whenever, Wherever, Whatever" in my head



We are at Manila, and nobody in my house knows I'm with her. We are parked in front of the bank. She's reclined her seat, and is trying to sleep, recharging her batteries for an interview in an hour. I'm writing this draining my laptop's battery. I kill the radio so I don't drain the car's battery. And I'm already trying my best to weather the next battery of the various tasks and errands we do as "constant companions".

It has been two weeks since she asked me to stop courting her. She told me that this wasn't what she wanted. I was saddened; I realized that I did something wrong, or I got too emotional, or I lost sight of what she wanted, how she felt, how unsure she may have been about it all. She said that there are things her life must take care of first - a job, moving out, a life away from our homeland. She said she feels how I care for her, but she can't have a boyfriend - she feels her life can't afford to be smothered by another's. Not now.

She's curled to the side, her breasts heaving high and low at her breath, and they are so beautiful. She's so beautiful when she sleeps. I want to curl up close, hold her near me and chase her down the footpath of dream and sleep, to kiss her lips and take in her breath's scent.

But there's just no room; this is a small car, and she can barely find a comfortable position for herself. What more with me in the picture?

I still love her, though. Always.