once during post-practicum, Wawa The Great had rummaged through my bag and opened my purse without my permission, as always. and boy, what a determined person she was. she checked every pocket and room there was in the purse.
that was when she inquired about a handy-plast she found in one of the pockets. why would anyone put a handy-plast in their purse was beyond her imagination. purse is strictly for money, identification card, credit cards, retail cards for discounts etc. she started lecturing on and on. i told her it was for my students since their routine is fighting. i lied. sorry Wawa The Great.
when i was in secondary school myself, he always had a fight. and sometimes he had scars here and there. i really thought he could use a handy-plast sometimes. i always wanted to give him one. but i didn't have one. when i entered university, my housemate bought this whole packet of handy-plast. and it was a transparent one. so even if you put it on, it's less visible. she gave me two. i already used one. the other i saved for him, for when we meet again, i for once would protect him. something i always wanted to do.
today, the handy-plast is still there. after all these years, i haven't taken it out. i guess it means i haven't let go. not entirely. a small part keeps holding on, keeps waiting. and that small part sometimes cause this pain, lightly caressing like a wind. soft and endless.
let's fill the other pockets as well, shall we? in time, i might be able to empty that one pocket...
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