Chinky. My shuttlebus seatmate. My partner in crime. My confidant. My friend. I miss our "batcave" days when we just meet at the stairwell to talk in hushed tones of last night's affairs; or krissy's bad girl moments wherein i get to top the list of office casualties. I miss our dinners before heading home. I miss your one-liners. I miss my visits to your office or yours to mine; just to talk, using the standard codenames just in case the person we are talking about pass by and accidentally catch on the subject. I miss going to the shuttlebus at night or in the mornings looking for you; immediately sitting beside you, and once again resuming on where we left at, prior to the last shuttle ride we took.
The shuttle was half-filled tonight. At the entrance i immediately looked for that familiar haircut, and the jawline, and those chinky slits for eyes. I immediately saw your back as i entered from the rear entrance of the bus. Beside you, my girl officemate called my name and motioned me to sit between the two of you. i tentatively approached, taking care not to look at you in the eye. I mustered to say a little "hello" and you replied with a little "hi"; doubting all the while as i'm hearing it, if your gaze even wandered in my direction. As i sat beside you, girl officemate began her endless prattle covering an already quite familiar terrain. I steered the conversation so that girl and i talked for the duration of the ride; all the while taking note of your hands—the one beside me—never leaving its grasp on the headrest fronting you, your elbow substituting for a vicious guard dog.
I did the same.
I miss you chinky.