It was more or less an hour ride, yet it seemed like it was longest ride I ever had.
I got aboard that coaster. I didn’t expect you to be there as you haven’t confirmed your attendance to the event, much like what you always do.
As I scanned the coaster’s seats, I saw one seat beside you available. I inhaled deeply, and approached you.
“Can I seat here?” I asked cheerfully.
“Yes, sure.” you replied. I was glad you gave the seat near the window; you knew I wanted to see the city’s view at night. I always thought, if I were given a chance to have a big brother, I would choose you.
You and I had always shared common grounds. We spend lunch laughing and giggling about things we had watched from YouTube, realizing we had watched the same videos separately. We share the same passion in taking photos. You always believed moments should be preserved and that only pictures can take a still copy of our fast-phased life.
With thoughts of having a short ride, I listed mentally the things I wanted to tell you this time—what happened to me during the whole hell of a week, the latest photos I got, the music I just had downloaded, the movie I am longing to watch, among others.
As I sat down, I felt the chilliness of the coaster’s temperature. I didn’t mind it though, since I know this wouldn’t be a long ride. But as our travel commenced, I started to feel coldness more from you than the temperature.
I wanted to start telling you stories of happened to me lately, but you seemed uninterested. I wished that you would show me signs of starting a conversation but you looked indifferent. We were seated right next to each other, yet the distance between us felt like oceans and miles apart.
I never knew what went wrong along the way that when it was time to alight the coaster, you stood up, got off, and never looked back.