Cards

You handed me a deck of cards and it seemed that all my wit and sensibility were gone in a split of second. But I managed to reply. It was dumb, okay. But at least, I made a very conscious effort not to be swept away.

“Unsa ma ni panghatag? Are you giving me this?”

I don’t know if I heard you right. What I remember was you said no and I regret having asked the question. But I opened the box and noticed that the top right edges of the cards were cut.

“Nganong putol? Why do they cut the edges?” I asked and from the look of your face, you kind of guessed that I am purely dumb.

“These are used cards from the casino. They cut the edges to mark them. Got these from a friend.”

My brain jumbled everything that followed. All I remember was the feeling of holding the box of cards in my left hand as if I was holding my own heart (refusing to let it fall and crash) or holding the idea of you talking to me (refusing to let go of the moment but trying hard not to dwell on it).

I handed you back the cards and thought of saying I like you. But the line doesn’t fit the conversation. I walked away and regretted.

You see, love isn’t like a deck of cards. Not everyone has the same chance to be picked out of the rest. The princes will always dig for the prettier and nicer Queen of Hearts while the low cards generally have to wait for that miracle dance.

I heard you seem to like the Queen of Hearts. And I guess she sees you too. I remember her describing her “type” and you quite match the description. I remember too, having said to myself, that if it happens, that you two were each other’s prayer, I will cry for a thousand years or less. Maybe ten years.

But right now, I’m gonna let me stay in one corner. And maybe, try to hint. That if, by some miracle, you’ll pick me out of the deck, I promise to make you smile every waking day for the rest of your life.