A train stops and my arms stretches to plead it waits a while longer for the melancholic me to unsheathe. Ignoring every plea I shed, the train choo choos, it automatic door clenches shut, and not sparing a haste to bliss, it zooms off.

I growl, frustrated—I mean...c'mon! I'm drenched in weariness, sore from the extra "unnecessary" jog, and I'm bleeding from deep cuts in places Band-Aids can't mend. "It's more of an incineration, than a cut." I grumble and immediately reduce my pace to suit my current strength.

Still frustrated with growls and swears spilling from my mouth, I bend over and grab my knees, it in turn makes my back topples like that of a cat keen with its looming sense of danger. My fingers clutches and squeezes both knees so tightly that I can feel the crescent marks from my finger nails already tattooing unto my skin beneath my black tights.

I want to scream so loud and hard, just the way my heart and pounding chest wants me to, but my head enters an auto-defense mode to keep me from doing something unladylike in a subway. So I simply clamp my kneecaps and groan silently, and allow the heaviness of my eyes to give way to a few drops of tears that stains and parts the dirt on the floor.

I sniff and suck heavy chunks of air, exhaling slowly as my throat shudders which breaks the breath into vibrating bits. Upon dropping a dry gulp, I clear my throat, and return a serious gaze to the floor, pretending to search for something extremely invisible. If I look close enough, I might as well find my dignity down here.

After series of seconds of an aimless study, I scatter my eyes in the opposite sides to be sure nobody was standing by a corner watching me nearly shatter—even if they did, they would've only seen me crouch in search of something small. But no stray eyes glances, nor did even a mistaken sneer throw itself at me. "Damn NewYorkers..." I say softly and grind my teeth. "Nobody gives a shit about you, even though you're dying. They'd just go on, minding their goddamn business!"

I fling myself up, and my eyes jumps to a couple awaiting the train. A chubby woman flings her purse at a more slender man, holding the tip of the strap to propel the purse further ahead. Crashing onto the man who heaves his shoulder to receive the hit, the purse yet again retracts and dives for another hit, but this time it cuts past his shielding shoulder and head, drives up, and then it drops, landing harshly on the man's head.

I stifle a laugh and watch the man hiss in pain.

"Don't. You. Dare..." The chubby lady breaks her continuous attacks mid sentence with each slam her purse makes on the slender man's body. "How disrespectful!" She pauses her attack for a few seconds of breathing. "Looking at another girl's ass, right in front of me?" She lets the purse strap slide down her grip until it reaches it extended tip. Her index finger sticking into the curve the bent edge made, she began to slowly spin the purse vertically while walking closer to the slender man as he equally retreats.
"You pig!" She yells, lowers her arm, and projects the purse which travels between his legs til it made contact with what seems like his testicles.

A yelp, and a near squeak leaps through the man's throat as he grabs the throbbing spot, grinding his teeth and stifling a painful scream.

The chubby woman scoffs, holds her head up, and awaits the prelude of his drama.

I begin to chuckle, while throwing my head to the spot I should be standing in wait for a train.

Replays of the couple's taijutsu envelops my mind, and having began to walk away from them, I cannot help but laugh as should.

"That was nuts!" I say softly. "Totally insane. A worthwhile drama —I do feel a bit loosened from the early tension, and..." Nearly biting my lower lips, I go for another breath which further shakes off a few things, and keep on pressing my soles ahead to a spot I judged close enough to the next train.

"That was crazy!" I chuckle in excitement again.

Far away from them, even after a healthy doze of laughter, my lips still stretches out a smile, and even strangely, nostalgia begins to waft about me.

It was Caleb. Although he wouldn't dare check out another girl who wasn't me— besides, he never seemed like the type of guy who would cheat or have an affair (they always don't), he had always been the quiet, supportive, moralist who would openly crusade against polygamy and men who keep concubines.

"Oh I'm such a fool..." But it's still all too hard to believe.

My eyes drag on the ground, ignoring the littered floor as I walk.

"And of all the sluts, Aisha? Really?"
My brow furrow in disgust.

Another train stop, and the ding sound, following with the sound of the door sliding open makes me jolt my head up. Noticing how slightly farther I am from the train, and how I have not added rather reduced my pace than initially, I shrug and simply move my feet at the same comfortable speed, with plans to catch the next train if I can't meet up with this one.

Thoughts of the train flips, and my gut immediately clenches tight; images of him gets more clogged in my head now than ever.

"Why do I miss him?"

I say as I begin to examine my head for any antenna that might be used involved in this wireless control of me, because this thing I feel, the longing to be within his arms wrapped around my chest, is plain stupidity.

I'm being mind controlled ain't I?

Yet it haunts me now than ever, the little details of Caleb I never really considered before, those I'd unconsciously undermined. These were little things like his steady breathing, the calmness of his aura when he's in a difficult situation, and his maturity when he desperately fights hard to not push his agitation on me.

Jogging this morning was to help clear my head, but such self imposed therapy, not to mention feet cramps, only makes it harder to forget because apparently every fucking thing reminds me of him.

It so much got to me that I had no idea when I found myself taking turns that led to a subway, getting on a train and stopping at the vicinity he works, just to see him.

I was hoping for an explanation, but that was clearly the worst possible idea.

Caleb owned a little café in the area, and that was where I had gone. A stupidly desperate move I wish I hadn't made.

Realising that heaven met my plea, my consciousness widens to the interior of the train. Although stunned as to how I'd magically appeared in here, I quickly feigned composure to hide my surprise.

Locating a seat, I pull out my phone, and a blank writing screen widens (a notepad), and found my companion ready to listen as usual to my written shame.

I write.

Caleb,

As I saw you through the glass from afar, I wanted to run into your arms, kiss you hard, and tell you how much I love you. But I saw her in yours instead, your lips touching hers than mine, and your words making her face flush with burning pink.

You looked happy, and to think that it has been barely twenty-four hours since I broke it off with you.

The very bitch I saw you besting between her thighs the very hour we were supposed to be out on our anniversary date, still resided in your arms, and what hurts more is how you treasured her as you did me.

I had to leave before it got worst, and watching you and her, I tried fortifying my heart against you but...I could not. You'd erased my hedges and dug to the open my weaknesses.

I wanted to hate you as I stood watching you and Aisha make love look so priceless, but I'm far too broken to be anything than sad.

So I wiped the tears that trudged down my face, and I left.

Back to this station, awaiting a more patient train that would take me home, and as soon as the door slides open, I pace up, hop in, and pray this train takes me far from you as possible.

Before I was aware of anything, the train halts at my stop, I drop, and take the stairs to the upper levels: out of the subway, beginning another jog back home.

• • •

My friends were right, Caleb wasn't worth it.

The video call earlier had ended moments after Sharon's "How to get a man 101" met its epilogue, and thinking about all she said, casting my baited line out into the ocean, might land me a whale amidst the lurking sharks.

And they were all right, my friends always are, although a bit of a loosed screw, but they had a knack for these sorts of precision. Let's say experience provided multiple positive karma points on the subject.

I want to call them, and cry my chest out, and tell them that I went to see him. I want to confess how weak my love for him has made me, and how I found my cousin's lips locked in his. But I cannot.

"Grab one, eff him up, wrap him in your web, and shit on his face...and look good while doing it." That was one of Sharon and Yvey's unofficial mantra. I roll my eyes and smile as I remember it.

"Those girls are really something." I chuckle, and forcefully plunge into the memories of our moments together, of how our first meeting which was of our drunk selves getting into a heated argument at a sorority party, of which later that night, brewed a well deserved friendship.

This is my effort to push to the side the resurfacing thoughts of Caleb. It's a struggle, but still somewhat effective.

I shake my head, sniff, and smile as I hum a few lines of Maroon 5's Payphone while snapping my fingers to the rhythm and nodding my head too. "If happy-ever-after did exist, I wish to be holding you right here..." I end it with a loud growl, as the lyrics are already becoming revolting. "Fairytale are entirely full o' bullcrap!" I mumble, and push the door open.

That was our bonding song(even though it matches my present predicament), and we had our arms over our shoulders, swaying our legs and singing it all night until our voice gave out and legs went sore.

Since that night of what we call "casual punches and vomits", we've pretty much been a gang of literally warped latrine and chicken pie since, and nothing would have made us one without our individual differences. Here, we've got Sharon, our psychotic-hoe barbie, with some serious tantrums only a hunky man with a good D can soothe. Yvonne, the black Athena with issues we plan on using chains and shock therapy to deal with. Lana, our moderator: the model citizen with a five-point-zero GPA, who never fails to remind us every single fucking time... And then there's me, the little miss extra with boy issues.

In short, we're a bunch of misfits trying to follow our own trend and misgivings.

Running, all I had going on my mind was Caleb: the slightest thing happening would have me smiling and reminiscing, and right now, staring at the couch and noticing all the dents and bends, has me on the rails again.

"We did make memories and engraved them in stone." Well, I guess Love isn't just enough to make it all float than sink.

I turn to the coat hanger to my right, holding up a cute pink woolen cardigan with drooping pockets and "PURR" boldly embroidered on its back. I walk to it, and begin to feel inside it's pocket. My fingers grab a slim piece of paper, and I pull it out.

"A ride ticket?" A ticket from a funfair a few weeks back. He won it for us, and I got pissed for some reason and we didn't get to go on the rollercoaster. He later apologized with one hand full of cotton candy, and the other with a big furry stuffed yellow Pooh bear and his little red top.

It was cute with the brown honey jar clasped between it's tiny woolen hands, and so were the Cotton candy. We both loved it, and now its foamy essence so reminds me also of his skin, and how it is so soft and tender like a cheesy brie, and incredibly white and somewhat creamy in taste. That's probably my pheromone's personal review.

He has one of those wide eyes, turquoise blue that matches mine, and a glare that could read the codes woven into one's soul. When he stared, our eyes would meld and I could see the raging yet calming waves roaming within his eyes. And as we locked eyes, he would pull me into his body, and my nose would catch on the scent of blueberry and vanilla chugged to the back of his neck.

I loved sniffing it. It was exotic and authentic. Not all men took pride in smelling like work, but I love mine having those lingering ounces that told where he spent most of this day at.

Caleb's was a hotel, where he worked as a pastry chef. A good weld of hobby and a carrier, one I strongly admired.

When he bakes, It was the little gestures for me. His deep blue eyes that claws into the very soul of the dough his arms struggles to knead right; sweats that tickle down his chin which he wipes with the back of his hand; and his hair, so black and shiny, fully stuffed in a net like a molted serpent wrapping a coil. Then his warmth: his presence that pours in like an oil, and slowly eats at the clog. And when he speaks, it's like a bombardment of a million ice shards, of which after, it slowly withers into bits stolen off by the wind.

He was perfect, and sniffing his hair whenever we hugged, was my favorite part. I loved his smell of freshly baked pastries that escapes into the threads of his hair.

"To hell with bitchy relationships and foxy boyfriends, uh?"
I quote Curtis, in a failing attempt to claim some bits comfort, but sadly, losing the one you love hurt so much to heal, and when it was you who called it quits...you don't wanna relive that torment.

"I wish we could work this out like we usually do: kiss and makeup, or talk it out and then have makeup choreography under the sheet."

I slump into a chair, run my hands through my hair, while fighting the urge to scream and break the TV. "If I wanna burn everything that holds a memory of you, I guess I'll have to set this very house on fire... I promised to never cry, or take a pen and start pouring unnecessary words you'd never get to read into a silly dairy."

My head sinks deeper into my palms, and my feet now rests on the chair with my knees pointing to the ceiling. I wrap my arms and hug my legs lightly. Every part of me feels like bursting apart like my heart is right now, yet, I clench my jaw tightly, and swallow the tears. "He's not worth it." I mumble to myself.

It's no good... Mental tricks isn't helping... Denial ain't either.

"I wanna call you, drive to your porch and bang on your door. I wanna scream at your window and ask you why you fucking chose to break me this much..." I sniff as my fingers dig into my scalp and I grab my hair at its root and begin to pull while rocking my back. "I'm like a baby crying into her knees," I chuckle. "but this hurts to much to wanna care."

I cannot hold it down. "My throat throbs to lurch out every strength it has. It wishes to pour this cringing heart out."
My body moves, and I silently listen to my own screams pouring through my throat.
"I promised not to cry, then why are this tears falling from my eyes, why is my feet wobble, and my face wet? Why does my voice break, and my breathing double and a my chest pounding?"

"I hate you Caleb!"

I drop my legs, pick up phone and begin to flip through my playlist. "These music would only make a girl jump off a bridge...so no songs about failed love."

I sigh and drop my phone back, then shift my gaze to my computer. "I've cried, I've screamed, now I'm gonna write..."

I pull up the screen and begin striking my fingers against the keyboard. Like uncorking, the words begin to flow from my mind to the screen.

I wish we could just rewind the tapes, and never have to replay it. I wish I would still be giggling as you'd trace your finger through my hair and tell me why coconut's electrolytes are good for my hair, and I'd tease you for being a big kitchen nerd, but you would simply scoff, and lean into my face and kiss me.

I miss how passionately we prove our love under the sheets, how your foreplay would send me into an overdrive, and how we would promise to burn the world for our love.

Why?

Our love is now six feet under, and I try each passing second to fathom the reason you would choose to bury our greatest treasure.

Was I not good enough for you? Or was it all a lie? Was our seven years together a fucking lie?!

I hate you so much for ever making me fall for those façades and sugar spice tongue...I hate how you are that wrecking ball that turns my walls to rubble... What I hate more is the power I gave you over me, over my mind!

I wish I didn't get to type this, knowing so well that you can never read it... But I guess this is the only way I can get to truly talk to you; to pour this cringing pain that makes heavy my chest and dulls my limbs.

I love you Curtis, I guess it's time I also love me.

Goodbye Curtis.

Cheers, your Lovely Apricot!

"That's that!" I drop a sigh. "Now," I raise my index finger above my head, and begin to slowly swirl it. My head joins the spinning rhythm, and a satisfying smug tapes to my face. "It's time begin a hoe-tation."