Fans of a disappearing act

"Don't mind the camera," she told him. "Photographs are nothing without the memory that you associate with it." He took another croissant.

She'd not admit that she's very lovable, and yet everybody around her loves her. She'd only say she's doing her job, although most don't really see it as one; rather, for them, it's a way of her being lovable. The two met on a prayer, on a day when he wasn't sure on where to go, and landed where he never expected to the most. But he never tried to conceal the bond that formed despite the short time they have spent together. He was somehow urged to tell her his problems, even if he knows that he shouldn't. She's a busy girl, after all.

But somehow she was always there. The two never met for a long time after the first conversation - a fact that he didn't worry about - but he just kept on writing her, and she kept on replying. It was that way for the next few months. It never bothered him if it the correspondence was sporadic - besides, he knows that she's busy, and he knows that he's busy - but it bothered him that he had a bond going.

They say she's bubbly, and he agrees. That's all he told me when I asked about his calm, unusual sense of doggedness. That, aside from that fact that she always seems to agree with him, or everybody else around her always seem to agree with her. He couldn't even explain himself much.

Later he figured it out - he found someone that, he thinks, will always be there. It seemed meant to last for a longer time, although he never hoped that it would.

"Why shouldn't I?" he told me. "Only a few people seem to understand me. She's one of them."

"Well," I answered, "I think she's good, isn't she?"

"Well," he hesitated, "you can say that she is."

He was trying to talk to her again - not because of that doggedness I noticed in him earlier, but because it was getting settled. She has managed to slip into his subconscious. He never had to think she'd always be there - she just is. One day he got through, exchanged two minutes, and that was it.

The other time, he got through, exchanged two more minutes, and got invited back. He accepted the invitation. He went back.

All the time she always told him about opportunities. He always felt he was being let down by the world; she counters it by saying something's out there that's meant for him. Every rant she had against the world everyone is in, he had a counter, and he'd end up learning something. It all slipped in his subconscious as well. In fact, when he went back it's as if he was meeting her for the first time - or as if they're neighbors, always seeing each other. It wasn't to last.

"I'm flying out," she told him.

"Why?" he asked, taking another croissant, this time letting it melt in his mouth.

"I've been here for quite a while, and I thought it'd be fun if I tried new things out."

"Like?" he answered, not mindful of the croissant he's melting.

"Like... I don't know. You know I'm spontaneous, like that. I've wanted to take photos too, like you always have."

He looked at his bag. He doesn't have a camera again.

"And then we'd see your exhibits," he replied. It's as if nothing changed.

She smiled. He knew what was coming next.

Luckily for him, he's gotten used to the fact that the one person he thought would always be there isn't there anymore. I can attest to that: before he'd mope about someone he misses, regardless of whether that someone misses him back. Now he never really thinks about it. He just knows one thing: she isn't there, but she is still. He decided to write back, and is still waiting for a reply. And so did the rest.

"So, she says photographs are nothing without the memory?" I recalled to him. "And you still don't have any with her?"

"I don't mind," he answered. "You know, all of us, we're just fans of a disappearing act. They soon disappear, but they'll always stay somewhere."

He blushed, realizing he's become as sappy as her.

And your responses...

probably one of the nicest things i've read so far...kinda reminds me of "the time traveller's wife"...but your characters hit a little too close to home, and that's how i know it's not taken from anywhere but deep within...bless your heart always, always niko!:) - kelly:)

Anonymous Anonymous1/06/2008     

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