"Are you also looking for picks?" A tall, black-haired guy behind me tries to peek into my mind. "Yeah. But this is not what I'm really looking for". I smile. I was looking at some cheap guitar picks at Target, and my heart was beginning to melt at how ruthlessly I had been ignoring my needs to get quality things in life- for no reason. I could've stopped by a guitar store downtown. I will. "I saw you walking past the apartment complex last Tuesday", the guy said again. Smartly dressed, he caught my attention. Albeit a little dark, he had a firm posture and an aura of confidence while he spoke- it gave out a sense of strong personality. "You did." I glanced at him, questioningly. "Yes. I did." He became a little serious. "And then I saw you at the gym again", he said, letting out a light laughter. "I'm sorry?" I had to make it a point. Why would he notice me in the first place? I don't like to be sneaked upon. Okay I agree at times I'll playfully challenge you just so that I get enough attention- but I don't need it now. I didn't need it then. "I'm sorry. Don't take me wrong. Are you still looking for the picks?" he looked at me for quite some time while I was busying myself browsing through numerous guitar accessories. I gave one look at him and walked towards the counter. He didn't follow. My bus was already there, I ran for it like I was going to lose someone for ever. I didn't want to go to the gym then. Getting home after a hectic day had become a routine, yet 'change' was not in the priority list. Some things were. I opened a news website and called a travel agency. Going home is always exciting for most people. It is. But for some reason, like the untuned guitar strumming with unease, I struggled to comprehend the idea I was actually going home to get married. I could just look at his picture and blush in shyness- the woman in me. How strange, isn't it? Most women my age wouldn't shy away playing trumpets to announce their wedding with a guy like him. 'Heera ho heera tyo', someone exaggerated on his already reputed vigor. No doubt. Like the newly weds finding it unnecessary to express themselves in words, sometimes I struggled to convey myself in English- feelings were stuck somewhere en route to the vocal chord. "Ma! I booked the ticket. I'm landing there on the 20th". The guy in Target. Numerous other people riding the bus with me everyday. The strip club I'd been to with some friends- white bodies swirling and swinging from the pole that was planted on the floor for them- their toy mate. "I'd do it for fun. Once in a lifetime, comon..", my Indonasian girl friend had said with enthusiasm. And my guy friend had confessed then- just the thought of his girlfriend meant more goose-bumps than this naked dance in jungle beats. What a loser. I had thought then. And the red purse I like to take out sometimes when I feel pretty. He likes the purse- I wonder why. Red is not a guy color- it looks good on you, he says. What is a guy color anyway? It's late. I need to check my eyes- I really don't want to wear glasses. Early morning in the bus, a voice behind says Hi. I turn back to find the dark guy standing, smiling in freshness. I just take a seat. He takes off his laptop bag sits right next to me. He didn't even ask me once if he could sit there. Its a public bus anyway. Why am I so irritated early morning? "How are you?" He throws a glance at me. "I'm good, thanks." I stay tight. Oh the sky is quite clear today- seems like we don't have much to bear the winter chill- it will go away- like life, like love- seasons are also like feelings- sometimes blooming in lush greeneries, sometiems dry and chapped, sometimes vivid and gutsy. To be continued..