Five years I have silently kept an eye on him as he grew more handsome physically. That young boy who sometimes disregarded his slippers colored in his favorite, red, had learned to comb his hair before he left home for school. However, my love was still a boy of naughtiness as he was constantly being told to keep quiet during class. His humorous, loud, enthusiastic demeanor yet well-mannered self drawn all the dalagitas' eyes and admiration towards him. He was quite the charmer.
I am not certain if Manolo was aware of how he was affectionately regarded by the young lasses. It was a violation to the norm when a lady initially displays that she fancies a man, one of the reasons why gals and so did the conservative I, kept my love for him in utmost secrecy and is utterly praying for the miracle of Manolo to take a liking towards myself.
It's one of the hottest days among summers that I can ever recall when I passed by Manolo who was sitting by the canopy of a blooming Kalachuchi. It was teeming with flowers. It glowed with grace and had the most imminent display of innocence under the blazing face of the sun. Nevertheless its beauty fell short of praises that I can ever had pray to tell compared to what I can deliver in ease for my Manolo who was holding a bruised Kalachuchi flower.
The petals had cuts here and there and wasn't the prettiest amongst all. It might have fallen on the rocky terrain just beneath the trunk.
He suddenly took notice of my presence as he shyly smiled and stood up slowly. Nervous I was when he approached me, still holding the humble flower. This is the very first time that he stood very near to me as both of us unconsciously kept our distance in the presence of others.
With much surprise, I did nothing but stand still like a rock rested in a peaceful valley when he tucked the flower behind my right ear. With much more surprise, he brought himself cautiously closer towards the lower part of my sweating temple and grazed the flower decorating my hair a quick smell.
It is a feeling completely unfamiliar yet ultimately pleasing to the chest and stomach especially when a hint of recognition crossed my mind. The myth of colorful butterflies said to flutter around the abdomen truly existed from what I had heard from my ates' muffled chatters.
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Manolo Burgos Sanio #wattys2018
Short StoryIn which keeping his promise would've saved him from his demise. A tiny plumeria's tell-tale.
