‘She clutched the knife and drove it right into her lover’s chest. Her lips quivered as his blood slowly stained his shirt, and he screamed from his sleep, feeling the cold blade. His eyes grew wide as he gripped the knife, before passing out. Taking her gloves off, she went out of the hotel room shaking. I did it! Miranda thought. And now for my husband. She grinned mischievously, feeling up the gun that she kept in her purse.’
I close the book, my nerves rocketing through sky limit. She killed her lover! Now she’s going to kill her husband. The cafe seemed to quiet down around me. I look around, and I notice people staring at me. Did I just talk to myself? An old man just looked at me. I talked to myself again! I shut my mouth and walk out of the cafe. The warm weather envelopes me, and I make my way home. I burrow my brows together, my thoughts still hanging by the thought that the protagonist killed the man who made her happy. What kind of twisted world was I living in? I pause for a moment, and I laugh at myself. It’s not my world. It’s a book.
“Something funny?”
I look up and see him, in all his handsome glory. And he was smirking! The nerve! I walk past him, a tint of blush on my cheeks.
“Hey I was just kidding.”
I feel him run up to walk beside me, and I walk a bit faster. I hold my book to my chest, and I flag my hand to stop a jeepney. I get into the front, so that he won’t sit beside me. I sigh, exhaling the breath that I was holding. I open my book again, and in an instant I am lost in the sea of words.
‘After getting in a cab, she prayed silently that her husband would be home. The cab ride home was excruciatingly tiresome, and her heart was beating so loudly she hoped the driver would not hear. She tossed her red hair to the side, stepping out of the cab. Her hands were still shaking because of the adrenaline, but nervously tried to compose herself as she walked up towards the apartment. Just as she was about to open the door-‘
“Hey!”
I look in annoyance to my book thief, who grinned like a wolf. He was sitting behind me, holding my book by its cover. Rage seeped through me as he stuck out his tongue out at me. He began reading my book, his brows furrowed as he read the page I was reading. Jerk. The jeepney was near my drop off now, and I was thinking of ways to get the book back. I paid the driver, glared at the thief and got off. Predictably, he got off too and he walked towards me, closing my book. He didn’t even use the bookmark! Now I have to search the book for where I left. I huff, and I try to reach for my book. He held it up over his head, and I curse under my breath.
“Give me the book Dennis.” I look at him in the eye, trying to muster the angriest look I could. I only received a howl of laughter from him.
“You’re so cute when you’re angry!” He says between his laughter.
I turn around so he wouldn’t see me blush, and I walk towards my house. I hear him call my name, but I pretend not to hear him. I feel his hand on my shoulder, but I just shrug it off. I walk faster, and soon enough I was running towards my house. I try to slam the door, but his damn foot got in the way.
“Hey Clarisse, don’t get mad. I was just curious what the book was about.”
I smack the door to his face, and soon enough I hear an “omf”. I smile with satisfaction, and I walk into my house. I hear him close my door, and I open the TV. He sits beside me, nudging me with his elbow. He slowly slid the book to my lap, and he remains silent. He’s smart after all. I immediately open my book, eager to know what was about to happen next. It took me a few minutes to find where I stopped, no thanks to Mr. jerk-a-lot.
‘Just as she was about to open the door, she hears a woman. And not just any woman. It was her sister. She stuck her ear on the door, and her heart breaking in two after hearing her sister moan her husband’s name. Filled with rage, she opened the door and her eyes confirmed her suspicions. Her husband was in an intimate position with her sister, whose eyes practically bulged out when she saw her.’
My heart hammered right out my chest, as I read on. But unfortunately for me, the jerk started to sing to the theme song of Phinneas and Ferb as it played on TV. I sigh, and reached for the remote to mute the sound.
“Hey! No fair!”
He tried to get the remote from me, but I lose immediately when he reached for my book. I reluctantly give it to him, and soon he was blaring the episode. Why did he have to be my neighbor? Why can’t my neighbor be someone who is actually nice to me? But lo and behold, I get a bully. I sigh, and return to my book. I shake my head at him, and he sticks his tongue out again. I open my book, and soon my anger melts. Soon I get lost between the confrontation of wife and husband, my mind drifting into a world woven by a writer so brilliant. And soon, I get drunk again with words from a simple book.
