She reached up, and scrabble about for her chocolate chip
cookies. They were absolutely full of chocolate chips. She licked her lips. She
reached in for one, and resealed the bag. At least the cookie crumbled in her
mouth, and if she maneuvered the crumbs well enough, they would stay away from
the painful tooth. Her cheek felt swollen. She sighed. As good as the cookie
was, she knew she needed a proper meal, good rest, and clean clothes.
She hopped down the stone pillar she was sitting on, and
went on her way. She had stuffed the bread back into her bag. Maybe it’ll soften after a few hours. She
knew it wouldn’t, but she wanted to hope just as well.
It was near midnight. She had eight hours more to wait. It
was cold. It was always cold, but nights could become extra chilly. She tucked
her arms closer to herself. She shivered a little and hugged herself tighter. You’re gonna be okay, kiddo. You’re tougher
than this. She closed her eyes and for a second allowed her father’s
comforting voice keep her company. He wasn’t there, but she could pretend he
was. She shook her head. She hadn’t been eating right, and imagination and
reality was starting to get hard to separate. She looked the clock. A whole
three minutes had passed. It was going to be a long night.
She took out her color pens and scribbled for a while. But
the alphabets kept swimming about. She was dead tired, cold, and hungry. What
she wouldn’t give for a hot bowl of noodles. She hugged herself again and
touched her cheek. She tried to figure out which tooth was giving her the
troubles. Not that it would fix anything, but maybe if she just found out….
She looked around, at the others splayed out in various
positions and spread out within the large space. If only they closed those big doors..then maybe it wouldn’t be so cold.
She tried walking around for a bit. The ceiling was so high up, she felt a
euphoria just from looking up at them. The gargoyle in the corner seemed to
smile at her, inviting her to go up there and share his warmth. Are gargoyles mammals? Or is it cold blooded
and just wants to steal my warmth? She shook her head again. This wouldn’t
do. She laid out one of her only two scarves on the stone cold seat, and tried
to sit. It made her thighs cold, but she was tired. She tried to close her
eyes. She needed the rest.
Across from her, the lady was signalling to her that it was
okay to sleep; that it was safe to rest. They didn’t speak any common
languages, but at least the hand gestures made sense. She raised her hand as a
sign of peace. Me mean no harm. Me come
in peace, and harmony. Take me to your leader. She shook her head again.
This was definitely going to be a long night.
The man next to her, was kicking at her bag. She clicked her
tongue in annoyance. There were abundant other places for him to be, why does
he choose the one next to her? And he was snoring, very loud, and his foot
spasmed every four minutes. She knew. She had timed him. Now he was kicking at
her bag again. She turned up her nose at him. Ah, there was the gargoyle again.
She took out her bread and gave it another bite. She was
rapidly losing weight. When she started off, she rapidly gained, in an effort
to fend off the cold, but now, each bite was agonizingly painful. Anything
remotely soft was sweet. And sweet gave her even greater shooting pains. She
closed her eyes and made a mental list of the wonderful things she missed:
1.
Hot meals
2.
Soft food
3.
Condensed milk
4.
A hot bowl of noodles
5.
Condiments showered onto…..
6.
Meat!!!
7.
Chilli sauce
8.
Thai chilli sauce
It was 4:30am. Somehow she had passed those thigh-clenching,
toe-freezing hours by. She took another bite of the dry, tough bread. It was
disgusting, but she munched away anyway. Every few chews, her jaw would
accidentally bite down on her tender tooth, and she would wince in pain. She
fought back the tears. They would only make her feel colder later.
A short, wild-curly-haired woman made her way across the hall.
She didn’t look “well”. She was limping, looked as if she smelled, and was
yelling at the top of her lungs. It was almost theatrical, the way she spoke;
or perhaps it was just the language she was speaking. She tugged at the small
handbag she had, and pulled out a cellphone. She had a cellphone! So she can’t
possibly be homeless, could she? She was calling out to someone, and her voice
echoed through the stone walls, up to the high ceiling where the gargoyle
rested, against the tinted windows that ran from one wall to another, and
bounced off the marble floors.
Everybody in the hall awoke, but everyone stole fearful
glances at her. Nobody went near, and no one certainly offered help. She was
looking for someone. But who? Who would she have to look for?
To everyone’s relief, she exited the hall and continued her
screamings elsewhere. They echoed less from outside of the hall, and everyone
was relieved. She was gone.
“Aaaaangeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllll”
Her voice echoed louder than ever. Everyone sat up;
confused, and annoyed.
She had returned, this time with a man on her arms. He held
on to her, and she looked up at him and lovingly touched his bearded face. His
cap slid off his head and he put it back on. They made their way to a corner;
away from others.
He lay down on her lap, and she continued her loud
proclamations of love to him. It was like a play, with the gargoyle boiling its
eyes down upon them. Was it because of the language that she spoke, that made
it sound all so Shakesperean, so dramatic? Was she, in truth, reciting
beautiful poetic lines to the love of her life? Only those who could understand
her words would be able to answer that.
One thing for sure, they were anything but beautiful. And
with limbs splayed out over the marble floor, with the soft down-lights shining
upon them, they looked like a rip-off Broadway show on its way to being cut
off. She allowed him to sleep in her lap for a while, while she recited verse
after verse of nothingness to the air. She stretched up her hand, perhaps in
vision of her Lord savior coming for her, then bent down over her Angel, and
screamed in his face. He made no response.
Cry after outcry she made, making the others nearby watching
curiously much uncomfortable. Did they not feel her pain? She bent down towards
her Angel, kissed the top of his head, and continued her Sonnet in Agony.
After a while, she tried to make him lie on her handbag
instead of in her lap. He did not respond. This seemed to anger her and she
started to smack the floors next to her; but never her Angel. To him, she
showered kiss after kiss and swept her hand gently across his face. Her Sonnet in
Agony continued its Fifth Verse, and a gentleman sitting in the second row becomes
increasingly irate at he antics
“Police! Police!” he mutters under his breath.
Her Poetry gets increasingly louder and louder, and as the
sun comes up, more and more people pour in through the big doors; witnesses
their Play. She cares nothing for them.
Angel is no longer moving.
No matter how she yells, how she pleads to the skies above
to revive that one love that she has; even if it is just for one more moment.
One last moment to hear him tell her he loves her. One last second to say
goodbye. Nothing. Angel no longer moves. She shakes him, screams in his ears,
stretches out her arms to the audience pleading for their aid.
Nothing.
Her Angel, her one and only Angel; she had to save him
somehow. But he was weighing down heavy on her lap, and she couldn’t move. The
onlookers click their tongues in annoyance.
She finally manages to free herself of Angel’s weight, and
clambers away. She goes to the gentleman who had muttered for the police; she
begs him for change, but he blatantly refuses her. She does not try others. She
gives Angel one last look, and hurries off.
Paramedics arrive, the police arrive, the station guards
arrive. Someone must have called them in. They approach Angel and try to wake
him; but he doesn’t respond. What if they take him away without her knowing?
Will they ever find each other again? The paramedics check for a pulse;
apparently there is one. They lift him up and he gains some consciousness. He
fights to lie down again. But there are far more of them than the only one of
him. And they are stronger, sober. They carry him off, against his will.
“Amooooooooooooooooooooore!!!”
He cries out for her. His voice pierces the silence and rips
through the stone floor. She is nowhere in sight. He begs them to stop. He pleads
them that she will be back for him. He cannot leave without her. She was all he
had. He was undeserving, but he had her. She was his, and he couldn’t leave her
behind.
“Angel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
She ran towards him, swatting at the paramedics and police.
Did they harm him? She placed the palms of her hands around his face and looked
into his eyes.
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