Naidi Hills (part 2)

The covered ground was particularly green that day. “The rising sun looks really nice when you’re at Naidi Hills,” Paul would often tell her. So she would make it a habit to wake up early in the morning and climb the hill and witness the sunrise. Unlike Paul, she is a morning person. She could wake up as early as three in the morning and there’s no trouble for her. Paul really hated it though. It’s probably the reason why he gave her a duplicate for the bike’s lock. So she won’t have to bother him. Just to spite him, she would still call his name from his window and ask for permission. Paul would look out from his window, his eyes half-open, and throw anything he finds in his room. Last time, he threw one of his Chucks at her and instantly, it bounced off on top of her head. She cursed him after that and kept the Chucks as revenge. Paul begged her for it  but she did not budge. Converse happens to be Paul’s favorite shoes in the world.

It rained the night before so she wasn’t sure if the sun would show up that day. She easily found her favorite spot on the grass, put a cloth on top and languidly sat on it. She looked around and smiled. The place was all hers, she told herself. While sitting, she reached for her backpack and took his notebook and pen. She loves scribbling just about anything when she’s waiting. Going through her old notes, she found this:

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves. What’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?”

She paused and thought for a moment. She remembered the day she wrote this. She just finished Carson Culler’s The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and went straight to Paul’s house to share the book. They usually do this. Share a book and discuss it afterwards. They both have the same passion for literature. Or at least that is what she thinks.

Thirty minutes after, the sun did not show up. She waited for another fifteen minutes and found her behind starting to feel numb. She rode her bike and hurried to go back to Paul’s house. Suddenly, she felt the need to see him.

That day when she came to his house, Paul had a visitor.

…to be continued

Naidi Hills (part 1)

More often than not Margarita borrows Paul’s bicycle. She would call out in his window even though she knows that he is still sleeping. “Pollydude, I will borrow your bike!” Instantly, she would unlock the bike and keep the duplicate inside her pocket. And like a thief without a trace, she would bike away towards her favorite spot. It was five in the morning and the sun was just about to  shine. While biking, she would remember what Paul said to him the other day. “You should get your own bike you know. They say that bicycle is the vehicle of the novelists and poets!” Margarita gave him a scowl. “I am nowhere near being a novelist, much more a poet!”

Fifteen minutes more and she would reach the hill, her favorite spot. She would sit there and wait for the sun to rise, like she always does.

…to be continued