Module X.

/*The unit arrives at its shelter and sits outside, beneath the stars. The joints are low on lubricant, the respiratory system is doubling it’s piston pumps, and the circulatory system is releasing Freon onto the battery tubes. The CPU is malfunctioning again. The telecommunications tower cuts the transmission between SAIKOW_08 and enables transmission with Camera_07, hidden in the bushes.*/

Encountered an internal error: the CPU is low on dopamine…

Losing contact with SAIKOW_08…

*the screen is distorted by lines and a screeching comes out of the speakers for five minutes*

Disconnected…

Enabling Camera_07…

Receiving external visual feed…

*darkness blurs from the scene and this image is taking form*

He’s looking for shooting star. He doesn’t really know why, but somehow he feels that he’ll be happy if he sees one. He finds it rare for him to spot one. If he does, it brings back memories, both bitter and sweet.

He remembers an incident in his life, he was lying on the soccer field, gazing up into an eternal sky. There, he saw his first shooting star. Remembering an old nursery rhyme, he made a wish. He wished for a perfect girl. Someone who was smart, caring, understanding, and fun to be with. Someone with beautiful eyes, milky white skin, jet-black hair, sweet lips, soft voice, and an alluring smile.

He remembers how his wish came true. He met the girl he wished for. And they got along fine. It really didn’t take long before he realized that he loved her. Question is, did she return te favor?

He remembers that one night when he saw the girl with another man. The man was about ten years older than him, eleven years older than her. He saw them outside the girl’s house. The man held both of her hands. He could see from the man’s posture that he was an athletic person, probably a swimmer with those broad shoulders. From the man’s clothes, he could only draw out one conclusion, that the man is a neat person: a well-ironed, maroon, long-sleeved polo; a pair of crisp, black, slacks; black leather shoes.

He remembers how he couldn’t quite figure out the facial features from where he stood. But, her face, he could clearly see. Her eyes had the same sparkle when they had our first date, the sparkle that was slowly blurred by the minutes that passed by between them. And her smile, she never smiled that way with him before. The man brushed off the tresses that fell upon her eyes, then he caressed her cheeks, then kissed her. The boy dropped the pair of sea-shell earrings he held, each shard sparkled with every dew that trickled from his eyes.

Images of the last time they were together flash before his eyes. If he had known that that was the last time he’d hold her, he would have held her closer, until their pulses became one. If he had known that that was the last time he’d kiss her, he would have cut his tongue off, just to preserve the taste of her lips. If he had known that that was the last time he’d see her smile for him, he would have killed himself just to freeze her face in his eyes. If only he had known…

He remembers how he walked away, facing the sky, where a star fell. He didn’t wish for anything, He knew one of them saw it. It’s theirs, he thaought. He’s just thankful because his first wish came true.

He has seen about seven shooting stars, by now. He realized that there are countless shooting stars falling every night. He just had to open his eyes and look for them. But, he would be a hypocrite if he told her that the first one he saw means nothing. The first star will always be remembered. But, it will never be seen again.

Perhaps some things are a lot like shooting stars, he thought, they look better just passing through.

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~ by saikow on April 13, 2007.

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