Low Heat

Sinurender mo na ba?, the message reads. It is short, yet it summarizes all that I've feared may happen since we'd first met.

Of course not. You know I'm better than that, I answer quickly.

Haha. Just checking. He tries at humor, the way he usually does, but even I can see it's only an attempt. I'll call you tonight.

I go to unplug the phone, then reconsider it, briefly. Why Not? Why The Hell Not? Would it be so ridiculous if I allowed for this to happen? Is age so important? Is that such a big deal? What is 25 years anyway? A dot in the wide, wide universe, a second in the whole spectrum of space-time.

But then common sense, the voices of all my friends and relatives raging against the idea of an Us, whispers of cruel gossipmongers, possibly echoed in broadsheets and tabloids (though the Manila Bulletin might consider it too trifling an item to waste space on) drowns out the Yes.

The line goes dead. The beginning of the end is like this, I suppose. So it goes.