No Substitutes

  1. I blink to gather the stillness hovering inside my room.
  2. I blink another time, slowly, realizing there are no substitutes for a silent night.
  3. It is a matter of time before it sinks to me that I won’t be able to go back to the province for Christmas. I suppose it comes real then: me, alone on Christmas Eve, in this busy city where the nights are shaded in bright neon, not flickering lamps and starlight.
  4. The wind comes colder all so sudden—not chilly, just plain cold like the Christmas ham stored in the fridge, piled alongside with the cheese and wine I don’t intend to consume anymore.
  5. Suddenly, I feel the need for warmth from my blanket. Tomorrow, I hum with Manila as she embraces me with the noises from cars outside my window.

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