One day in 2011

Darling, remember that one day in 2011?

It started a year and a half before that. You said on a certain date, in 2011, you would ring me up and ask me to pack my bags.

We're going to go out of town. Way out of the city.

And you would buy these drinks, Tequila, your favorite.

I know something would be up, because you don't really drink.

Then we'd end up somewhere between the beach and the mountains.

Could be anywhere where you could watch people surf.

And I know something would be up but you would not tell.

Then, by around half past two in the afternoon, you would be keeping tabs on your watch.

Which you don't normally do when we are all together, because you know how to have your fun.

But that particular day in 2011, you would tell a lot of stories in the world, except one.

By six, when Tequila, as expected, betray you, you will be begin to talk.

That day will be one of those scenarios that you played many times in your head.

While driving, while taking a shower, while sitting in a coffee shop lost in a daze.

You have already blocked that whole month of the calendar.

You know you would dread it, but you got magic up on your sleeve.

Girlfriends on speed dial.

We all know.

And in your drunken state would hallucinate church bells ringing, saying it is officially over.

Game Over.

Now, that was five years ago, Darling. Ain't it funny?

That one scene you played a hundred times in your head never happened.

And what you thought you would be feeling by now never occurred.

And just when the skies cleared up, you don't want your story anymore.

Because you finally know why it was never meant to be in the first place.

Now you know.