Eight Hours by Ana Theresa C. Adriano

I've been sitting here for a while now. The plane sure take so long. Even though I am exhausted, the clouds are still and calm, I wish so with there. I'm not bothered at the running clock. I just imagine seconds flew by. After one and the other—until time run out— soon I'll be there. I hope you're waiting patiently for me.

    

My first line would be "I've missed you," or probably "How have you been?" until now my words tumble. Maybe, I'm just too happy to see you again.

    

Know what, I've stock lots of lots of fancy stories. Just in case you want to hear them, I've been hanging a lot with friends lately and I do talk about you. They sure know your existence. How you mean in my life and how special you are to me. If only you can meet them, I'm sure you'll be pleased. They are good people.

    

Now, thinking what your expression might be makes me wonder. Are you smiling? Perhaps pouting or laughing? It doesn't really matter; after all it is always refreshing. You never fail to give me a funny feeling.

     I'm getting all worked up. Nervous, excited and embarrassed. My hands are sweaty, the butterflies in my stomach still lingers after all this years.

    

Now that I fulfill my promise and resume my guts I think I'm ready to face you. This time, I have changed.  But the fact that you're still the most important person in my life never changes. Not a single day I missed to wish for your happiness.

     I'm home.

     And it takes 8 hours to reach you.

Seems like those hours played great deal in our lives. Here on the solid ground, in this messy dust particles wet by the rain.

Not knowing eight hours just passed…

"Have you hanging for a long time, huh?"  I murmured though I am certain that no one will respond.

"I've brought you a present." I smiled as I tried to hide the bundle from my back. But what's the use? Even if you always tell me that it makes you happy about the essence of surprise.

"Here, your favorite star gazer. Now, you will not have a reason to be jealous of other girls." She lay there as usual. Always, always so quite.

Six feet under, with my memories of her. No—with her life.

"I've finished school and I want you to be the first person to know." Here, where I stand lays a beautiful name, spelled out clearly with bold text. I looked at my watch and faced her again. "Time will run out huh?" I scratch my head and apologized to her, "I'm sorry, seems like I'm eight hours late again… like that day…