Tamarindo

A young man was lost,

in the McDonald, Washington D.C.

4am, in early April.

He had no idea where he was nor what he did, yet he was there,

in one particular McDonald, in Washington D.C at 4am.

He looked up at the menu, trying to read the words on the broad; 

then he lowered his head, trying to read the same menu on the cards of the counter again.

Now, do not mistake; Even though this is not his country, he reads, writes and speaks perfect English.

However, he just could not comprehend any, any of the words.

Has she boarded on the plane yet?

The only thing he could think at the moment, was that he did not understand this feeling inside of his chest.

He fell in love with a girl.

A girl he met two nights before, a girl he didn't know much about.

A girl he just had sex with, a girl that should have remained as... ships in the night;

Just an one-time rendezvous on this trip to the East Coast of the United States.

How is that possible, a glance in one night, a "hi" and a handshake,

a cigarette and some silly talks,

and he fell head over heels?

"Are you gonna stare at the menu all night?" The clerk asked, unamused. "I won't judge, but move out of the line if you're not gonna order, mister."

Snapped back to focus on the clerk's face briefly, he adjusted his glasses and nodded sheepishly.

"I'd like... Small fries with coke, thank you."

And then, he stared at the air, 

food tray on the table, unmoved.

The way her lips tasted like Tamarindo.

She drank vodka with dry vermouth, served with olives. High heels and grey, clean-cut dress, sat in that leather sofa with crossing legs,

So he had to covered those taste of capitalism with a splash of freedom and warmth, 

with the tamarindo candies and Tamarind Smirnoff he brought.

Are you ready to leave the States?

He remembered asked her when they escaped the blasting ball room together for another smoke break. The way his suit jacket drape over her slim shoulders was just perfect in his eyes.

No. It's so much fun here. She chuckled. Are you?

He was certain about his own answer, which was a solid "yes"; 

Because he didn't like it here. So cold. Everyday, everyone, everything.

But at that moment, the young águila was not so confident anymore.

He had gone back to his own hotel. His colleague took his position in the bed, but that didn't bother him. He toss his tie away before lied face flat onto the mattress.

He was better accompanied tonight. 

C’est la vie! That's what they all say about things like this.

But she felt more than just that, when they whisper on each other's lips.

Her lips felt familiar; it's a feeling of nostalgic. 

The way their bodies danced and merged together; 

it felt like they knew each other already,

long, long before tonight.

He checked the phone. 0 notifications. 

The way she locked their fingers together under the redlight probably had him mistaken something,

wasn't it?

A trace of airplane's flickering lights ran across the night sky as he lied flat. 

He imagined that was her, on her way to San Francisco.

You're making me not wanting to leave the States even more, 

did you do it on purpose?

She asked, when the cold street lamps from outside of the window ignited the warm sparkles in her brown eyes.

His tongue swirled a bit, the taste of tamarindo candy spread across his mouth. 

It was sweet. It was spicy. It was sour.

Yes,

He wanted to say that. He should have said that.

I did it on purpose, 

so that you will stay.

No,

He said.

And I don't wanna make you miss your flight.

Stay. Stay here with me, and don't go.

Farewell.

Smiley eyes, silky hands, slipped out his hand like spring's breeze,

cherry blossom's petals,

a lucid dream.

Until next time.

Where are you going?

You didn't even give me a goodbye kiss. 

Farewell. 

Farewell, my perfect girl.

My perfect girl who tasted just like tamarindo.