Ego That Drowns Me

Me, a year third student of visual communication and design in an old bleached denim, for the hundredth time walked down an alley of crowd muttering about poetry. I've lit up my fifth cigarettes tonight, for the first time ever I felt uneasy and had no idea why. I am no man of jinx and omen. 

When I finally reached the stage the audience were silenced. They must be waiting for me either to read or to leave the stage, there's no difference. I reached for a microphone on a stand but it's tight enough for me to failed taking it off.  As I took the second microphone on the table and check it, a girl few feets away from the stage laugh softly. What's funny? 

But then later the technician came up to the stage and pat my shoulder. "Bro, that mic has no xlr cable on. I left it in my house, just use the one on that stand. Sorry." Ah, I see now, it's pretty embarrassing. How could I missed that detail, this is not my first time up stage. 

Ever since I took the wrong mic, that girl who sat all by herself never moved her gaze away, so ready to spot another clumsiness of mine. I sat myself on a stool, setting up the microphone stand nearing my face. I did it slowly, try to calm myself. The night sky seemed to be as clear as it is not rainy season. Should I really believed in omen and jinx now? 

Like any other time I started my reading with scanning all the audience, clearing my throat and took a deep breath. 

"Tonight, I'll read Rendra's Night Prayer since no one had already pray to start this meeting." That girl smiled, I saw no mocking gesture like before. A wave of serenity rushing through my body as both of our eyes met. As I continue reading the poem, my eyes kept rolling back at her shady gaze, as shady as a silhoutte of sycamore when the sun sets.

She shared her gaze between three things, her notebook and pen, me on the stage and the entrance door.

Dim light of yellowish christmas lamps lit up her pale skin. Her shoulder lenght hair wave gracefully as she turned he face to the door. As if I were connected with her I also move my gaze to a slender figure infront of the door. Ah, she was waiting for him this whole time and me; just a background noise that accompanied her waiting. 

September, 2018

#writing #oneshot