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Wouldn't it be nice if they could speak rather than just weeping and holding each other. Although truth might not be too devastating, they were just too intimidated to unveil it. Or here the plural third person form should precisely be only singular either he or she. He wondered as he lit up another cigarette.

Waiter came over with the bill stating baileys, gin and two mojitos on it. He reached out a 50-dollar note from the bi-fold brown wallet and put in the tray. He wrote 'thank you' on that piece of paper which was already full of undistinguishable handwritings whilst promptly the waiter left 'you are welcome. have a nice night, sir' following. Alcohol had started to draw a broken smile catalytically which he gave to that waiter. At the moment he spotted that there was a faint tattoo of a few english words on the waiter's left forearm that he leant over trying to have a close look on them. They were 'this too shall pass', a piece of old phrase originated from King Solomon's story he recalled.

Solomon's ring, which made him happy when he was in sorrow and calmed him down when he was excited witted the power that phrase. At the time, a string of acoustic floating from the main bar singing the beach boys's 'wouldn't it be nice' became clearer and piercing. 'Wouldn't it be nice' he moved his lips but with no sound was produced. That was a sweet song, however at the end of day, literally every thing, no exception, this too shall pass.

He no longer heard the music, when the lights went out.

Well, it might just be an old trick but new bastard story as plot ran exactly same. It was just a perfect day, literally perfect with any given standard from any human being. He might have to quote Lou's song to represent that day because to him that song wouldn't hint any flaw to be perfect. It had been occurring to him that how did the woman look like, that lady in Lou's song. Even though he had quite a few pictures in his mind, when it came to a sketch he couldn't move the pencil a bit. Perhaps, that woman didn't live in existence. Thought so, he went in a pub. And then music kept haunting until one second gig was over or electricity went off, or just whatever cause that made the DARKNESS.

There used to be a park right in the heart of CBD about fairly similar size of a football pitch, where later was rebuilt to a tourist info centre as government called and of course people's will. Nevertheless, people hardly gave much more attention to that place rather than a shabby outdoor hostel for beggars, drunks and so on all sorts of losers and wankers. Especially in the mornings, there was barely dignity of a city-centre park should have expressed as one might only see BODIES rolled by stinking RUGS on well-tramped grass.
 
Overcasting morning, the whole oval was pressing down and he was worn out by a night out with occasional booze and greens. To and fro, people were busying. So did trams. they arrived at the destinations and then went on opposite. He finished last cigarette in that pack and stood up heading east. All of sudden, a string of faint acoustic sprung out from the air as if a sword just swung through and slashed. 

I WONT DIE BEFORE MUSIC ENDS.

'About what?' he asked as he turned to her.
'Caring about people.' she answered promptly.
'You? Oh yes, why would I?', he smiled vaguely.
She smiled and said, 'Because I am the one whom you fancy.'
'Spot on, yes, I do, pretty much I do, love.'

It was a Tuesday morning, his last day-off in a week as he worked part-time in a restaurant. '7 FEB' showed on his old Casio digital watch, which he brought 5 years ago from someone else. He always had some unusual love towards old stuff, those pre-owned, pre-loved then abandoned.    

'Everything tells story.' He murmured.
'What was that?'
'No. Hm, I just wanted  to tell you that you can just feel free to vanish, like vaporising, like you've never showed up. Well, perhaps I won't stop missing, oh not precisely, should be thinking,  thinking about you, love.'
'You talk too much, Kenneth!'
He put two fingers in front of his mouth and went on 'It may have to be ended up with a kiss. Oh yes, do you know what's the equivalent word in French for farewell?'
'You may shut up now!'
He shrugged as he stood up and walked out to the deck.

It had been unbearably hot for a week, people might have consumed more ice drinks than ever and as it was the first time of his life, air conditioner became a necessity of his life. He brought up in a city far away in the north, another country, different continent, where four springs consisting up a full solar year. Summer was about the middle of a year, and it was just full of pleasant scent of sun-dried quilts.

He strongly believe here in Oceania, everything has turned to the opposite side not only summer Christmas. Although he couldn't tell what the differences are clearly and he didn't reckon old springs were way better than summer Christmas, he still expected an answer.

Duke, neighbour's dog, had already been swinging tails towards him. 'Good morning.' as he stretched freely and had a good breath of morning air.

'Sun-dried quilts!'

I wish I was born in a rural small town where everyone knows each other. Small, I mean, literally small enough to let every child goes to same school and each man has to care about girls they are fucking are not their cousins. Mates of mine and I, we occasionally watch our sisters' shower through holes on the wall. We steal fresh baked caked from house of the only widow in town and we throw paper balls to our teacher from the city.

And then I grow up, I will have my first love, first kiss and first sex awkwardly. Following my beloved girl has to move away from the town because family issues. That I must have to be down and losing for awhile. However, one day when I wake up in the morning, I will feel like I have to pick up my own feet and move on, then I just pack up and leave a letter on the dinner table for my parents.

After several years, I will have my own business, own property, car, wife, lovers and daughter who has to be named after my first beloved girl with whatever name she has told me or I can remember. And it has to be someday that my daughter and I will meet my first beloved girl and she will know my daughter has same name with her.

But hang on, what if I can't recall her name precisely or she's told me a fake name which she might forget the other day. Then everything will turn out to be a joke. Well, actually, everything is a joke like they are born to be.  
 

It was five hundred forty five in the morning, he was awaken by an old-styled analogue alarm clock. He rubbed his eyes with as still lying on the bed. An enormous hangover just came up with the feeling of some liquid still stirring in his stomach. Every breath was mixing with scent of alcohol and he felt like he got a fever.

He threw his legs out of bed and shambled out bedroom to kitchen. It was going to be a fine day as he could tell from the sparking morning sunshine in the living room which penetrated from boughs and sprigs. But he couldn't open his eyes properly as they were itchy and painful. After a few searches on the after-party mess, he fetched a red mug with wrong spelling of 'espressoo' on the TV table. On the further ground of kitchen, one of girl with black dress was holding the kettle in her arms while still snoring. Couple of people were lying on the ground of living room with parts of their bodies stacking on each other.

He awkwardly tiptoed across them in order to not step on them. Finally he managed to get a tea bag. It said 'Gloria Black Tea' on the tea bag. He approached the tea bag to his nose. A pleasant fragrance of fresh tea rushed into his nose as he felt a bit more sober. He tweaked the water tap to hot and lifted it for little awhile until hot water came out. He thought he never ever drank tea with tap hot water as he filled the mug up with the 'Gloria Black Tea' in it.

He tiptoed again back to living room, but this time was a lot easier. There was a solid red double-sofa in the living room which he bought from a Japanese couple. It had a bit torn on the edges but still looked neatly. He sat on it holding the 'espressoo' mug with two hands. "Why bother?" a girl's voice from the ground smashed the silence. He could recognise that voice, 'She is awaken.', thought he stood up.