Author's note : This is another assignment that is given for me this week. I am translating it to English so y'all can read. I begin to like this writing routine. I gain my writing portfolio and I can write it on this blog, to keep things goin'. Hopefully, I am through to the next level each week. I am to write my reaction when a man of my dream approaches my doorstep with a smile and ask me out for breakfast date. Sounds cute. But I have twist!
It has been enough for me to rape the snooze button that alerts every five minutes. It is still five minutes to seven in the morning. It is still dawn for me. I do not really have any plan but to write for the rest of the day. Therefore I have no worries, and drag my comforter up to cover my resting body.
The alarm snoozes again. I extend my arm and reach for the keypads. Until, I come to realize that it is not coming from my phone. Until, I hear faint knocks on the front door.
"It is still dawn, dammit!" I curse as I get up off my bed. I raid open all doors one by one until I reach the front one.
"Who is it?" Instead of letting my guest answer themselves, I open the door. Not to bother them answering first.
A bright flash of light strikes my face. It pinches my eyes so I blink once and twice.
"Morning," my guest greets me. He lowers a chunk of vintage polaroid camera to reveal his face. Before me is an awaited view that everyone expect to see every morning when they wake up. Thick arch of brown eyebrows and eyes of the same shade. His average lips brighten me a smile. Beautiful.
"Morning," I greet back. He looks different than me. He is so lean that his head almost touches the height of the door and his skin is rather brighter than me with bit shade of red.
I continue, "Are you looking for someone?"
He rises his brows and open his arms. "You think?"
I watch him, he is now shaking the paper that is coming out of the camera's mouth. The paper stains colors and shapes. The paper stains me.
"Sorry, you got the wrong person." I say as I shut the door in a hurry. I rest against the door bark to calm my heart that races fast.. Please, let it be anyone but not him.
"I know you are still there," he shouts.
With a bigger smirk, he greets me when I open the door for twice of the day. "Remember me?"
I would like to say absolutely yes, but instead, I freeze.
"I bet you do," he guesses again. "You can name and call me whatever you like--"
"September," I murmur
"September," he repeats. "I actually like that. I was born in September. Now, would you care for breakfast with me?"
"I don't do breakfast. My stomach hurts after I eat breakfast." I refuse.
"That is not the reason for turning me down," suddenly, he enters the house threshold without my permission. "I am cooking."
The egg is sheering on the hot pan and the smell of butter smears to every direction from the kitchen. He flutters his sight at me, when I am caught looking at him.
"Coffee or Tea?"
"Great, I have it prepared inside your yellow mug."
I grab the said mug's surface and I clench the warmness. Sweet.
"How many years since we haven't met?" he opens the conversation.
"So, you are now, what? Ninetee--you are twenty. Am I correct?"
"I am thirty now. Imagine that!"
He then approaches me with a sizzling pan on his hand. He flips an omelette on to my plate. He is so close, I can examine his face closely. This man could not be any older than 30. Then comes his smile. Oh, please, don't do that again.
For a 15-year-old girl, September is disgrace. September is a sealed dream that is too taboo to be shared. But she does not expect that five years later, all of that would turn up to be just alright. He is the law of attraction that God has been developed. But, I thought He had created boundaries from which are real and which are not. Then, what is September doing here?
I step lightly behind him. But apparently, those light steps are not feathery enough. So he turns at me and grabs me by the waist. The moment later, we breathe in the same air.
That's when I know for sure, the breakfast would not be touched any time soon.