“Playing Scrabble is really fun when I have a tough opponent like you.”
“It’s a pleasure to play with you, too.”
“I didn’t expect you were saving letters for ‘melancholy’!”
“My favorite word, actually.”
“The word sounds sad, don’t you think?”
“The word is poetic, I think. It resounds and feels like being alone, without umbrella or any shade whatsoever, under a heavy rain; feeling the rain—crawling upon and into your skin, reaching your very soul, drenching it with gray clouds, thunder, lightning, and raindrops—as if you were naked; wondering where the raindrops come from, what they are made of, but having knowledge about the water cycle still fails you; and asking, ‘Will this rain ever end?’”
“Wow. So, it is not just sad. It is beautifully sad.”
“Well, you can say that.”
“You and your poetic tendencies! That’s what I like about you, my dear friend. But, really, when you said that, you seemed sad. Are you sad?”
“I’m here with my… dear friend, playing our favorite game. So, why would I? It was just, I guess, as you call it, my poetic tendencies,” he said with a smile.
“Okay. If you say so.”
“By the way, I think I should go.”
“But it’s still raining.”
“It’s okay. It’s getting late, anyway.”
“If nothing can stop you, okay. But, wait.” She took an umbrella and handed it to him.
“Thank you and goodbye, Lorrie.”
“Take care, Randy.”
Randy left the umbrella at the doorstep. Under the rain, he walked slowly.
—
Jade Mark B. Capiñanes, a proud BisDak Studies AB English at Mindanao State University-General Santos City and always finds time to come home to Davao every Christmas and summer breaks.