Sitting on my office desk with the table covered with numerous files. The small standing fan hung few metres up the grey wall seem not to have forgotten me as its alloyed blades pushed the much needed cool breeze to my cubicle. I could smell the breeze. It was also coated with a bit of Sarah's perfume, a strong one at that. My brain started flickering images of the past weeks with Sarah and her office dramas. Suddenly, all I could perceive was the smell of ink. Oh yes! I'm yet to write my report on the newly shipped cargoes, I recalled.

But somehow, I wasn't even bothered about my Boss constant nagging. We all take it that he didn't liked the job since he's controlled by another man, whom by the way, seems to be in some sort of dare, to always appear in a blue blazer and a pair of black Jean each time he stops by the office. I was rather taken away by the, now faint, smell of ink which reminded me of my school years. More importantly, my high school life and I was owned by your reminisce.

A young chap in a pair of blue trouser and a white long sleeve shirt, which served as the school's uniform. "Crystal point High school" was finely printed on the badge that sits on my bosom pocket alongside what seemed like a drunk school boy with an unknown illness that made him appear pale, holding up an item no one knows of. The principal always blamed Mr Benjamin, an artist in his 60's that resides few blocks from the school compound for his failed attempt of a school's badge. Whichever way, the students wore it with pride.

"Frank, I don't pay you a large sum of amount so you could use my fan and expect me to still pay the bills while you rest doing nothing!", My boss yelled from 20 feets away. Once again, putting me on the spotlight as workers coming back from the cafeteria all stood there in utmost confusion, "technically, it's the office's fan" I murmured in my head. "Sir, the report will be on your desk by the end of work hours so you could feed into it at your leisure time at home" I replied with a bold voice colligated with a tone of tiredness. "it better be. Frank, it better be!!" the bald headed man said, as he made way to his office without his body mysteriously touching the door sides. Soon, I became more nostalgic.


All the memories of my past life flooded in with no caution whatsoever. The brief making out with girls at the stairwell, the ass grabbing and flirting. All but bad. And that attitude won me the title "baddest guy" in school because of all my dirty talks, the stuff I made up and got my 'friends' to find some comfort in believing. In reality, I was all mouth and little or no action. I got accustomed to the bad habit after I left my primary school. A school attended by bastards ward-ed by past seniors and boys living the 'dream', as they would normally put it. In the drama of my past chaotic days, I will never forget that monstrosity of a face. A old looking lad that could be easily singled out from a Chinese crowd. Not because of his striking height but by the unsymmetrical line that ran across his big face, acquired from his father. A young man graced with the skill of throwing sharp objects at anything that moves around the house. In John's happy moments, we would sometime tease him by calling him "Kratos, the God of war". He knew nothing of the character but always smiled. He was fooled by the words he only understood "....God of War".

His face lightened up with a smug smile as he talks about his sex escapades. Tales that knew no bound. He was, in fact, the naughtiest boy I had ever met. If only there were awards given to such category of people. John was the cause of my high school exhibited attitude. He forged me and quite a few others in a fire that only gets fueled by lies and his sexual activities. Somehow, I never fully gave in to his influence. I simply make up stories and tell to the crew until it finally turned into a wont.

Being labelled the "baddest guy" in high school atimes came with good fortunes- Girls or at least, that was John's definition of Fortune. It stood hand in hand with my other tag, "the Intelligent boi" imposed by the few who truly knew me. Not by my act of 'terrorism' but quite the opposite. And like all(most?) intelligent students, you get enemies shipped from who knows where, wrapped up with a stroke of hate and jealousy accompanied by a laminated license that gave them liberty to do so.

Victoria, my most hated fan. Her notebooks indeed had the inscription of 'Victoria' but I could have sworn by my ancestors that her real alias was actually Satan. Somewhere deep within her, she found pleasure with unraveling faults in me and in many cases, make one. It was like her secret hobby.


She had the back of a slate, not just smooth but also flat. Her bosom were in total denial even puberty had failed subsequently to make them as appealing as those of 'our mother of bosoms', Bola. In fact, the only thing that had a swell on her slim body was a pimple seated on her right cheek. Was it really a pimple? Or was it a friend we were never introduced to? because the pimple seemed to be her only true accomplice.

Forged enemies we truly were. She never felt ashamed to wave her gossip certificate in public. On many occasions, she tried to take me down in her subtle but evil ways. In spite all these, she was of a mettle soul in terms of temperament.

But it didn't stop her from seeing me as a competitor. One whom she was contending with to be the most loved and top of the class. A competition I knew nothing of and so therefore, had no part in.

Months later, mother fate decided to take things her own way when Victoria and I fell under the same group of five for a practical. A practical which gave us the opportunity to converse. I, we rather, discovered there was a cloud of feelings that we had for each other--- Love. It was the first time we actually had something in common besides wearing the same colour of uniform.


Luckily(?), she had split up with her three month boyfriend so I had a chance of courting her. The feeling of Love made me, for once, realize her skin coated in caramel, her hair dipped in warm chocolate, her lips stained with the color of pink, and her small but lovely posture. It was as if our newly discovered love triggered her Estrogen just enough to push her bosom a bit further but wasn't quite copious to fix her slate of a back side. Our relationship was all unicorn and magical for she changed me. I never had a chance to explore her body in a romantically and I never regretted it, not for once. Because I was more in love with her personality than her body. Quite decent she was.

Soon, my memory became foggy and my brain interpreted forgotten images with blemishes
of an unknown fluid. I couldn't make sense out of them. "Sleeping on the job?" lo and behold, it was the Buffalo image of my boss staring right into my eyes with the fan's power cable in his fat palm. "You are not serious with your job. No wonder nobody likes you here" he exclaimed, or at least I heard. He must have been playing some sort of reverse mind game because he described himself and not me. For I was loved by my Co-workers, admired by the female ones. Truly, I couldn't point out his 'mistake'. Of course, he would fire me right away so I bottled up, as usual. Moments later, I drifted back into my other world, to the day it all changed.

24th of February, 2008, as I nicknamed it "my Valentine". You see, it was just 14 days past the actual date set aside for Valentine. Which on that day, I was graced with so many gifts from my female admirers. I didn't get any present for Victoria and I wasn't expecting anything from her either. Was it owed to the fact that we were barely in a 3 month relationship since we professed love to one another? or because we thought we were past that stage. It didn't matter cause I got my answer 14 days after.

She grabbed me by my arms and pulled me to the dark stairwell close to the chemistry laboratory. I couldn't..we couldn't see each other. Even before my retina could adjust to my new environment, her soft lips were interlocked with mine. Our first kiss surpassed what we had both imagined. After the memorable but brief kiss, she whispered to my hearing with a rather sonorous voice, "Frank, I Love You".


If Victoria, a very decent girl could genuinely love me then how bad was I?




_____________________________I apologize for any grammatical error(s). I couldn't possibly edit after writing it because I was already running low on battery juice