Papers were strewn all over the dining table. I studied one in my hand as I picked it up to the dimmed light. "You made me come to your house to watch you check test papers?" I asked incredulously, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Am I even allowed to see these?" You laughed a little, the sound bouncing against the almost bare walls of your living room. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see you," you said something like that, steadily seated in that misplaced rocking chair, form awashed in shadows. I must've rolled my eyes to that effect, trying not to believe that you just said that. Moving behind you, I tried to push the chair to sway forward, but you caught my hands above your head and pulled me closer. My face burned at the contact, cursing to myself about not having foreseen this. Thankfully, the darkness left me some dignity. That grim expression on your face gave me the impression that you were a little strained by a lot of things lately. You wanted to be understood but everybody always took things the wrong way, and that was making you sad. I wanted to believe I could bring you this much peace, even just for tonight. Finally, you released me and started marking those neglected papers again. As expected, there were a lot more of X's than of checks, and the red ink blurred all the wrong answers on my classmates' papers. "You haven't marked mine yet." I voiced the observation when I accidentally had a glimpse of my untouched paper underneath somebody else's. You momentarily looked up. "I suppose so." There wouldn't be any way to know whose paper you're checking unless you memorized your students' ID numbers. "How...?" You went back to your work. "I would know if it's your paper. There's a certain scent on it." I lifted my paper to my nose, sniffing edges and spaces. "I don't smell anything." The interruption didn't faze you. "Really? Maybe you're used to your own scent that you can't find it." My own scent? I could hear the distant ticking of that clock on the wall. It seemed too fast in my ears. "You have unique, sweet smell." No. It was just my heart, hammering wildly again.
December 17, 2008
the rocking chair.
Papers were strewn all over the dining table. I studied one in my hand as I picked it up to the dimmed light. "You made me come to your house to watch you check test papers?" I asked incredulously, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Am I even allowed to see these?" You laughed a little, the sound bouncing against the almost bare walls of your living room. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see you," you said something like that, steadily seated in that misplaced rocking chair, form awashed in shadows. I must've rolled my eyes to that effect, trying not to believe that you just said that. Moving behind you, I tried to push the chair to sway forward, but you caught my hands above your head and pulled me closer. My face burned at the contact, cursing to myself about not having foreseen this. Thankfully, the darkness left me some dignity. That grim expression on your face gave me the impression that you were a little strained by a lot of things lately. You wanted to be understood but everybody always took things the wrong way, and that was making you sad. I wanted to believe I could bring you this much peace, even just for tonight. Finally, you released me and started marking those neglected papers again. As expected, there were a lot more of X's than of checks, and the red ink blurred all the wrong answers on my classmates' papers. "You haven't marked mine yet." I voiced the observation when I accidentally had a glimpse of my untouched paper underneath somebody else's. You momentarily looked up. "I suppose so." There wouldn't be any way to know whose paper you're checking unless you memorized your students' ID numbers. "How...?" You went back to your work. "I would know if it's your paper. There's a certain scent on it." I lifted my paper to my nose, sniffing edges and spaces. "I don't smell anything." The interruption didn't faze you. "Really? Maybe you're used to your own scent that you can't find it." My own scent? I could hear the distant ticking of that clock on the wall. It seemed too fast in my ears. "You have unique, sweet smell." No. It was just my heart, hammering wildly again.
