I feel as much as I think. I do both excessively.

Category: Short Stories

Classic Soul

by avrillorenzo

There was a thing that circulated on Facebook on how you would introduce someone in a story. This is my take on it.. and this is about Kevin.

(Play My Girl by The Temptations as soon as you start reading)

The sound of a jacket ruffling made me turn my head – and then our eyes met. It was like a typical scene in a movie wherein the leading lady finally meets her leading man – in slow motion. Hair neatly slicked back, and lashes as long as you could imagine fluttering over rosy cheeks – he reminded me of spring for some reason. He was in the process of taking-off his jacket – and I swear everybody in the room was watching him. My heart skipped a beat when I realized he was looking at me. I tried to be less awkward than what I am normally capable of and turned my head back slowly to the front and down to my book – feigning disinterest. Too late, I thought. Too late.

I never realized I was counting until I reached 27 and there was a knock on my table.

“Is this seat taken?”

His voice rang in my ear and turned into a sensation you get when you first hear the groovy, smooth melody of a classic soul song. I look up tentatively and he was smiling down at me – smiling at me as if I was the best thing he’s seen all day. Of course, that was just my imagination – and too caught up with it I was, I only managed to shake my head in response.

He sat down and I did my best to try and ignore him and get back to reading. It was a moot effort since I was reading the same three words over and over again. All I could think about were his eyes and classic soul.

And oh boy, did I love soul music.



by avrillorenzo

She stood outside his door, contemplating whether to knock or just leave. This isn’t a good idea, she thought. And of the minutes that she stood there, all of her memories of him flashed before her. She remembered how the hall of his apartment smelled of candle wax. He wasn’t one for using electricity at night. He likes the soft glow of candles. She found this weird trait of his dangerous, but he would always blow out the candles before they slept. The first time he held her hand was when she was trying to plug in her laptop one night because she was running out of battery. He stopped her because of his ‘I-don’t-use-electricity-at-night’ thing. She was too overwhelmed with the sensations brought about by one touch that she forgot that she had to send her paper that night. But it was worth it, she mused; that was when they first kissed: sitting on the floor, surrounded by candle light and the city noise masking the silence. She was looking at one of the paintings he had on his wall, the one that screamed autumn because of the crisp browns and oranges brushed across the canvas. She thought of autumn when she thinks of his lips. That was the last thing she thought of before he pressed his lips against hers for the first time. It was a clumsy kiss, considering that he leaned in the moment she turned towards him; he didn’t have his sights on the target but he barely missed. Barely, and then he moved his lips against hers, brushing them like how he brushed autumn into his canvas. She wondered if he still had it. She also remembered the cold nights. They wouldn’t need the heater because they had each other’s body heat. She could still feel how his arms would brush hers so faintly and how it would burn. And at nights like those, she would be lulled to sleep by the sound of his snores and heartbeat, mixed into an unorthodox melody that always made her smile before she slept. And often as not, he would always breathe against her hair. And in his exhale, she would always feel him say ‘I love you’ in the faintest of gestures. And she remembered how that fleeting moment before she succumbs to slumber told her that she was in love with him.

She blinked and looked at her hands with an envelope with 2 things inside. She knew what she had to do.


There was a knock on his door. A second later, he wouldn’t have heard it for he was about to go to sleep. Grumbling, he made his way to the door asking who it was. He looked through the peephole and saw that nobody was there. He cursed whoever it was and made his way back to his bed. But before he could fully turn around, he stepped on something. He bent down and picked up an envelope. He caught her scent on the measly stationary and immediately opened it, heart racing. Slowly pulling out the contents of the envelope, he fell to the floor. He looked around his apartment and his eyes landed on that one painting that she loved the most and immediately remembered her lips. The feeling of them against his were still there. He carefully opened the invitation and felt his world fall apart… The only thing that was going through his mind was whether or not he was to finally burn that painting.

It was her wedding invitation, dated exactly a week ago. He burned the invitation with one of the candles he had nearby and threw it in the bin. He held the other piece of paper found in the envelope, crumpled and stained.

You’ll always be the one, even though I’m not yours.”

And for the first time, he turned the lights and the heater on.


by avrillorenzo

A warm breeze blew through her hair as the late afternoon sun gently painted the scene before her. The park was oddly empty as she stood and watched the trees dance and the waters of the lake ripple here and there. She sighed and raised her hand to the sun. She opened and closed her hands, spread her fingers to let the sunlight dance between them. After a while of standing, she sat down on the slightly damp grass and hugged her knees to her.

She wore a very solemn expression on her face graced with tear tracks along her cheeks. They just had the biggest fight in their whole relationship. It scared her how much their story was somewhat resembling a tragedy.

It was only a few minutes when somebody sat down beside her. She looked to her right then looked up to the orange sky with hints of pink and mauve, her lips pressed in a thin line. The person sitting beside her spoke.

“I love this time of day. It’s like the sky compensates for the end of the day by making everything majestically beautiful. I’d take the end if it’s always going to be this way.”

“But would you really settle for the end?”

“Maybe. As the saying goes, ‘all good things come to an end’.”

“What if the end isn’t as lovely as you want it to be? What if it’s the start and the middle that’s beautiful?”

“Then I wouldn’t take it in the first place if the end’s going to be horrible.”

“I guess that’s why you’re with me, aren’t you?”

“I guess so. The start of our story was never made of fairytale magic. It started out bad. We were always at each other’s throats. It’s pretty funny, if you ask me. Looking back, I never expected we would go far. Our story isn’t perfect, isn’t wonderful and nobody expected us to get this far. But what’s amazing about it is that in the end, it’s us together. And that’s the most beautiful thing I have ever come across with in my entire life. Having such an awful story made me flip the pages until I reached the end. Because I think happy endings make more sense when it’s not expected. It’s not just a happy ending, but a beautiful one.”

He took her hand and laced their fingers together. She looked at him and squeezed his hand gently.

“You know, I think I’m starting to like this part of the day.”

He brought their hands to his lips and kissed them.

Everything was perfect. The park was filtered orange and set a beautiful contrast to the lush greens. She couldn’t help but smile. The engagement was back on.

Do You Still Think Of Me?

by avrillorenzo

I stood at the far corner of the room. The flicking of the candle light at my periphery served as my momentary distraction. My escape from the scene right in front of me.. Her.. After more than a year, still glowing in her own light, finally with me in the same room. At least, that’s what I think.

There was somebody else.. She’s with somebody else. The guy that was probably better than me.

The one that deserved her more.

She was introducing him to the rest of our friends. Our friends who believed that we would have made it past forever.

I walked out to the cold streets, with a bottle of beer in one hand. The other is shoved down my coat’s pocket, looking for something to pass the time.. Alas, I find the case. I grabbed one stick and lit it with the lighter after I put the case back in my pocket. I breathe it in and close my eyes.. I let the sensation of smoke fill me when I felt a tap on my shoulder..

“Can I have one?..”

She reached for my pocket and grabbed the case.. She then looked for the lighter.

She let out a ball of smoke and looked relieved..

“How are you?..”

I stared. Why would she care? After all that happened.

“Say something..”

It came as a whisper as she bowed her head down, hiding behind her long hair.. Now a curtain to her beautiful face. I threw my stick away and chugged down the remaining beer. I heard a muffled sob and I wished I never came to the party. I cupped her face, urging her to look up at me..

Her eyes that meant the world, now brimming with tears. I hated seeing her cry.. So I closed my eyes and pulled her close by the hand. She seemed to have dropped her stick for both her hands were free to hold mine.

“I wish you stayed. I wish I never reached the point when I’d have to fight.” I said.

“Why? What have you got to lose if you fought?”

“You. But I lost either way.”

I looked at her, looking defeated. She looked back at me, equally defeated. Then, we just stood there. Looking at each other, her hands in mine. After a while, she finally let me go. I hailed a cab and bid her goodbye. I looked out from the cab and saw her still standing there. But she wasn’t alone. She finally had her coat on and her man with his hands on her shoulders. The moment that he touched her, her mood changed. I can tell from a distance that her face lit up. Her eyes brighter and her lips forming to an ever glorious smile. I turned away, feeling the most defeated I’ve been ever since it ended. Recalling my last moments with the her that was once mine made me realize that I really shouldn’t have come to the party. I asked her one final question, the question that made it hard to breathe in anticipation of the answer. I asked her one final question and lost all the hope I had left for her.

“Do you still think of me?”

It was then that she let go of my hands and stepped back.