2 am walks

She and the Wonder boy walked down a sparingly lit road at 2 am.



Her dragging her blistered feet, tired body and weary heart and him fresh from his clinic shift, worn out as well.

Shoulders literally rubbing together, they trudge along.

He asked, "How's your day?"
"Managed to survive it, yours? How are you doing with the clinic hours?" she answered with a painfully croaky voice.

"Oh. Boses mo. What happened?"

"Stress, puyat at luha." She was staring straight ahead, he'll be looking at her now, that she knows.

He cleared his throat and then she felt his hand on her shoulder, "Don't cry," she thought to herself. She didn't.

"Ah, poetry." He said in such a small small voice and then proceeded to speak in rhymes so silly it created bubbles within her coaxing her to giggle, she afforded a smile.

"Tears are but dew for morning flowers to bloom; smile mi maria, not everything is doomed."

She let her head touch his shoulder for a beat, her left hand found the small of his back.

"There's always a new battle to wage war against in the morning," her broken voice said as it force its way out of her mouth.

"But you never sleep, so this is but the same fight," there's a sad laughter in his response.

"Well some battles last longer than others."

He shook his head in a mock surrender, smiling sadly.

She raised her right hand, hailing a cab, he was surprised.

"San ka pupunta?"

"Di sa akin yan, saiyo. Uwi na."

He stopped, he didn't realize that they reached the end of the block. Slowly they detached. He opened the cab door, putting his medical kit in first, clad in intern's white he smiled at her and then he is gone.

"I should keep more men like him," another thought and then she continued walking, "Ah, poetry," She said out loud and then recited some lines from Neruda.

"Tonight I write the saddest lines..."