after work; those few hours of nothingness. ferry, waves, darkness of the ocean below me. just before I got off I felt an immense need to jump into the water and swim in the ice. figuratively. dinner downtown was pleasant as always. but after that I was glad to enjoy some time just by myself; hanging out around the peel st. area, meeting strangers, talking about nothing. close to midnight it was time to move. midnight shopping for a little black dress and a ten dollar tote bag. solo drink; and then the musicians on the street corner. artists. long dreadlocked hair, infinite ideals, bob marley and bob dylan. and yet we ended up in one of the urban bars.
hazelnut boy was there. his dance moves shameless and directed at me. just like that night we first met. by hong kong standards, when a bartender gives you a lime instead of a lemon and knows you by your first name, you are ready for marriage. superficial and flirteous looks from everyone. drunk asian girls with red cheeks and large sunglasses in a dark club. we found love in a hopeless place. but it was still just the two of us. in our bubble. ninety-seven crowded and sweaty. I speak no americano. hang onto that girl, seriously. we declined an invitation to the infamous buddha bar and left home on a mini bus. for once we talked about us without an argument as a consequence.
you were the one. our laughter was surely heard through the locked door. the sky began to change color by the time we started nodding off, thirty minutes of sleep before adele’s make you feel my love awoke me. that moment when I take the warm blankets off is the worst. I left with his scarf, which is now filling my wardrobe with his strong cologne. I stumbled through the entrance of my apartment at seven thirty, only to walk back out forty minutes later, uncertainly stepping into a new day. filled with hope.
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