“Hey!” Well called. His voice echoed like a wailing siren in the vastness and bleakness of the dusk. On the other hand, Binsent Anchorman had been caught in a lull. Well had been trying to get his attention for quite a while already but still he was too stuck in a rut that he had not heard a thing. And so, Well got no choice but to poke him by th shoulders to make sure that he would turn around this time. “I said hey!” Well repeated. This time, there was a certain sharpness in his voice sharp enough to pierce through the daydream that caught all the attention of the man beside him. “Are you still with me?” Well asked, his eyebrows trying to collide with each other but a part of him said it was too unnecessary for them to do that. “Oh, yes! Yes! I am still with you. Sorry, but what was it again?” Binsent Anchorman moved his head to the direction of the young man, and now that his attention had been diverted to him finally, he made sure he heard every word that Well would utter the f
There was a knock on the door. If not because of eight beautiful hours of sleep that had been finally granted to Well, he would have never opened that door. But because he was able to get the thing he had been asking for, he was motivated and partly convinced that getting up from his bed and walking all the way to the doorway just to open the door for someone he did not even sure who was fine. “Who is it?” he asked, his left ear had been drawn to the door, just close enough for him to hear the words if ever the person on the other side would somehow reply. It was only seven minutes before seven o’clock in the morning, and so Well thought it could not be the customer service serving Well’s free breakfast because it would be too early. Usually, free breakfast was served around seventy thirty to eight, and that still would depend if the tenant would acquire for it. As far as Well could recall, he did not request for a free meal last night. Three seconds passed and yet no reply had bee
Well quickly jumped out of his bed and ran towards his cabinet to pull out some clothes. He changed his pair of blue and white stripes of pajamas into a pink polo shirt and a plain, black jeans. He reached for a couple of accessories on his jewelry box which was located on the uppermost layer of the drawers beside his cabinet. He wore a Rolex silver watch, the one his Dad, Gerard Smith gave him as a present during his fifteenth birthday, and his silver anchor necklace which his best friend, JH bought for him from a dollar junkshop back when they were still studying together on Well’s former high school. These were the two jewelries he would only were during important and sentimental occassions. Such as this one. He and his new friend, Allen Mar was about to meet on the City Central Plaza to continue or to resume the friendship that Allen Mar had temporarily ended just simply because he got angry after Well frankly asked him questions that triggered his inner self to explode in massive
“You are telling me that you are fucking willing to wait for more than two hours here? Are you joking me?” Binsent Anchorman said as he led the way to the nearest 711 store-- which was on the right wing of the Johannson Street, the only street with a name around the City Central Plaza.“Uhm, yep. That is exactly what I am telling you,” Well replied, looking unbothered as he kept on walking following the path that Binsent Anchorman took. “I am not asking you to wait with me here, so, what is with that frustration?” Well asked back to him, his eyes blinking in a series of winks-- left eye and then right eye, and then repeat.“Nothing.” Binsent Anchorman stopped. “It is just-- you know-- unbelievable. I mean, I have never encountered anyone who is willing to wait for hours and hours in some boring place under the broad daylight just for someone who he had a misunderstanding with. It does not make any sense to me, you know what I mean?” He continued walking forward.“Does it have to make
Binsent Anchorman sat down on one of the four monoblock chairs around the only table outside of the same store. Well sat right next to him. “That is a different kind of waiting, though,” the old bloke replied. “That waiting is one where everything that is about to happen next is unknown, and you are bound between ending it and running for your life, and continuing it for the sake of the accomplishment of the misson. That kind of waiting is deadly. While your kind of waiting is-- I don’t kno what to call it anymore.” “Sentimental,” Well answered. “My kind of waiting is sentimental. And all sentimental things are usually boring. That is in their nature. But not in my case. Sentimental things-- to me-- they are the most risk-worthy thing in the world. Like-- you know-- I would be willing to brave all the odds just to achieve that sentimental value. I don’t know. Maybe you do not understand what I mean. Even I, sometimes, don’t understand what I mean. Is that what, we people, really are?
Three wild hours of waiting and finally, Allen Mar appeared in the scene. He was wearing a blue cap, and a pair of red basketball jersey uniform. His footwear was a pair of red, brand new flip flops. He smelled like an expensive wine, and the fact that he was wearing a vintage tinted glasses only supported the mere allegation that he looked just as fine as a newly bloomed actor in the acting industry. He looked both to the left and to the right before he proceeded crossing the pedestrian lane. En route to the direction of the 711 store where Well and Binsent Anchorman had been waiting on the table outside, Well looked at the man in front of him and started a mini conversation.“I don’t know if he had seen you already, but I bet he was going to freak out if he sees your face. He must surely mistaken you as Detective Deib Anchorman. Brace yourself because you are about to explain things as soon as he arrives here on the table,” Well said as he rested his eyebrows and took a sip on the i
Well locked eyes with Binsent Anchorman. His bare, brown face suddenly turned blueish white. His eyes grew wide. His eyebrows raised up above the sky. And with a mouth growing into a massiive capital O, a voice squeeked out of his vocal chord. “What the actual fuck?!” he shouted as he stepped back. “You are alive?!” he asked, his voice shuddering as if he spoke it while facing an electric fan. His gaze kept on sticking onto the view of Detective Deib Anchorman’s carbon copy. “How about you sit down so that we can begin to explain things and you can begin to comprehend and understand?” Well said as he cupped his face with his cold, trembling hands and controlled him down to take a seat. “I know things look a little messy, and I know for some reason that you are thinking it is in you that is wrong, but no. I was exactly like you at first but then I got some enlightenment after hearing the explanation and the reason behind.” “Enlightement about what exactly?” Allen Mar asked as he sat d
The meet up was supposed to be exclusive only for Well and Allen Mar because it was going to be their time to talk about things and maybe apologize for each other for the mess that they have done in each other’s feelings. However, but because Binsent Anchorman joined in the frame, the two young boys were left with no choice but to deal with it and just brush off the idea of their so called face to face talking stage. Instead, what came into their mind was another thought that did not even come across to them earlier. Another problem, another hypothetical question sprung up, and everything was up for Well and Allen Mar, including the twin brother of Detective Deib Anchorman, if whether or not they were going to take it seriously or just leave it as it was-- merely an idea.“What makes you think that the culprits are after us? Because if I try to think of it, there is really nothing interesting about the two of us. You said, they were after us both, right? Aren’t we the weakest and most