then suddenly, all the silver trucks in the world would steal every bit of my attention as i hope (fervently!) that one of them is his.

he drives a silver truck. a truck that has taken its toll on my mind ever since i figured out that the truck, standing out from the rest of the cars, parked so damn near the soccer field, was his. the first time i met this silver truck, i just arrived with my friend at the skyline parking lot from a class-skipping frenzy at serramonte. he drove with blaring sounds, when i took a glimpse of him, the person i came to know one valentine's day, and he at me, and right there and then, i melted. cheesy. but true, anyway. i think i melted too much that i had to grab hold of nina as we marched through the hallways to go to the nearest restroom. to check my face, of course. in case i see him again.

and now the truck, long after being dumped to the bottom-most pit of my brain, is back to take its vengeance. it haunts me, i must say. it haunts me in such a way that every truck i see on the road resembles his, every truck mercilessly teases me like this that my heart skips thrice its normal rate in effort to keep up with my wild speculation that the silver truck i see must be his.

it's simply wishful thinking, i know. there had been times i have been invited to ride that truck, a friendly invite to take me home, an invite for a pig-out lunch, an invite to pick me up to school. but i threw it all with a hundred excuses, ready to pounce on every effort he gives out.

and now he's gone. a piece of history that i would never have at present. gone, except for the truck that stands on its usual spot near the soccer field for thirty minutes after i begin with my daily exercise in p.e. class. and at exactly two, while i complete the 12 laps of jogging around soccer field, the truck begins to drive away. sometimes i wish he'd wave. sometimes i wish he'd see me, he'd stop, he'd wait, and he'd ask me to take me home. but then again, everything now is wishful thinking.