FEATURED STORY: If Only It Would Be the Same by Matthew Burgos
provided by the pale candlelight embraced the lonely aura of the space. It tried to elevate what it
knew would be hard today.
The steaks were looking at each other; sorrow engulfed them as the gap between them became
farther. The bubbles of the champagne were starting to disseminate and fade. The whole set-up was
screaming love; a hope that it would spread inside flickered.
Andrea faced the mirror in her bedroom. The green, strapless dress hugged her curves. Her brown
hair was curled and laid lifelessly on her right shoulder. She looked into her eyes from the reflection;
a pair of dark brown pupils met her. It was full of gleam and happiness; once. She sighed and tried
to stop her tears.
A knock startled her. “Hey, are you ready?” Dale’s muffled voice inquired.
Andrea smiled sadly at the mirror. “Yes. I am ready; really ready.” She laughed a little; sadness
coiled around her voice.
She breathed out and walked to the door. Her silky hand touched the golden knob and turned it. A
god stood before her. Dale was wearing a black tuxedo and a white shirt underneath it, hugging his
hard body and biceps. His black hair met his forehead, one of his thick eyebrows was raised, his
pointed nose and hard jaw were beautifully crafted and his plum and soft lips were on a smile. It
ached to see him so happy when she knew he should not.
Dale offered his arm to Andrea. “Shall we?”
I am sorry, Andrea thought to herself. “Sure.” She tried to give colors to her voice, but failed.
Dale caressed her cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice, full of dark tones and concern, almost
made her fall on her knees.
“Nothing. Just work, stress, and all.” Andrea waved her hand and smiled. Dale nodded and gave
her the equal smile.
They went downstairs. As they walked outside the garden, devotion could be inhaled, but Andrea
seemed to breathe it out. Dale pulled out her chair and she sat. “Thank you.” A kiss on her cheek
was his reply.
Andrea tried to find the electricity in her system; thinking it was just sleeping around her corner.
She could not pretend to herself, either. She should face her fear sooner than later; the flowing
stream of electricity that would always involve Dale became stagnant and lazy.
“For more years to come. Happy 10th year anniversary.” Dale raised his flute. Andrea was dazed
with dreams. He snapped his finger to get her attention. “We can cancel this… if you want?” He
tentatively asked.
Andrea blinked rapidly. “No, no! I am very sorry. Here, for…” she gulped. “More years.” She
raised her flute. The flutes thumped together, creating a melodic sound that would ever haunt
Andrea’s ears. It was beautiful, it was already piercing her ears.
As Dale knifed his steak, Andrea could not help, but to stare at her plate. She could not believe
that, until today, she was still seeking for a heart. Not that she was not satisfied with what she
already had, but the thought that she could have what she really wanted lingered. She wanted to
grasp on it, hold it and brush aside what she had today.
Andrea told herself she hated liars and it elatedly continued to slap itself across her face. When she
saw her past man yesterday on her way home, she could not thump down the feeling of longing, and
crave for the other one’s perpetual devotion, and presence. Dale did not cause anything. The
thoughts that surrounded her were all because of her.
If it was not permanent, then nothing would stay the same. The boulders should be carried by her.
She would be jumping from the skies, but she would not care if she would meet the fires or the
waters. She would rather get faded than continue breathing in a withered flower.
“And our boss said we could take a vacation for a week and I am planning to…”
Andrea looked up, tears brimmed in her eyes. “Dear,” she began, her voice was breathless. “I have
something to tell you.”
The chains collapsed along with its rusts.
The papers across the skies were flamed with daggered-words.
The rings became meaningless.
Nothing would be the same.
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