thatbrilliantsmile

I. /Prologue What Do You Really See? What do you really see when you face another person? What do you really feel and think when you come across a stranger? Do you feel uncomfortable or shy? Or do you feel confident and optimistic? It's always bad to judge a book by its cover, or in this case, judge a person from his or her appearance. Most of the time, your first assumptions are wrong - but some other times, what you think is what is right. So what do you really see when you see an ordinary teenaged girl sitting before you? What really goes through your head? At first, you could assume she was just like any other teenager - naive and r

II. What Was Her Name? The subway train rode at a steady pace, everything else inside silent - rather than the outside world, loud, moving, somehow steady, but disruptive all at once. I looked around at the people who were around me, from people leaning onto the top railing, to other folks sitting peacefully with their minds wandering somewhere else. Sometimes I'd wonder what strangers like them were thinking about. Sometimes I'd wonder if they were as they showed themselves to be. Before watching for too long, I averted my gaze elsewhere, to the girl sitting across from me. Behind her I saw my reflection, but my own thoughts and appeara

III. What Do You Wish For? "A picture is worth a thousand words," I whispered aloud as I looked through the saved photographs in my computer. There were at least more than a thousand, which could mean they'd only be worth a lot more. "A picture is worth a thousand words." But what did you really see when you stared long enough? Before I would click "next", I would always stare at each photograph, as if it'd have some secret meaning hidden behind it. Although, what would you expect to find when every one of them had such a brilliant smile and such a distracting face? I felt a sudden vibration in my pocket. I jumped, all while accidentally

IV. What Was She Doing Here? I hadn't told Yan about Jenny, partly because I knew she wouldn't have cared much at all. But just like the name "Jayme", I saw Jenny again – in person, that is. Although this time, she didn't carry a book with her. Instead, she was in search for another, her eyes skimming through each title organized on the library's high shelves. "Jenny?" I called quietly, sprinting up to her. She almost seemed surprised to see me, but she was good at keeping her expression. "Linea," she responded, her voice steady and somehow...Elegant. I shook that thought away and smiled instead. "What are you doing here?" Right af

V. What Did They Consider A Lost Love Was? By the time Jenny and I sat down at one of the outdoor patios outside the coffee shop, the wind began growing cooler and I began feeling Goosebumps on my arms. I quickly regretted not bringing a sweater along, and for getting an iced latte instead of a hot, sweet chocolate as Jenny did. I sat with my arms around me, trying to seem cool, even though I knew I looked like an idiot, holding myself while slightly rocking back and forth as if I belonged in a Looney-bin. Jenny took a sip from her hot chocolate, moving so casually and gracefully I wanted to push her arm to make her make a mistake for onc

VI. What Are You Trying To Say? I didn't answer calls or messages. Instead, I locked myself in my room, with everything coming at me, and only one think coming out of me – tears. Jenny's voice and the ways she asked that question still rung in my ears like bells chiming endlessly at a wedding. I kept hearing the question, over and over again, just like you'd look at a math question over and over again to get an answer. But no matter what I did, the answer would always be the same. I tried changing it, twisting my own words around it, but it always came out the same. Jenny looked at me with intense eyes, asking me a question that hit

VII. What Now? "I had the craziest day today. The number eight was just everywhere. So was the name Jayme. No joke; I'm pretty sure it's haunting us. We need to do something about this." I held the phone in my hand numbly, staring at the blank wall in front of me as if it would later show me an answer. "Like what?" I said insensitively. "Like, I don't know," she said, ignoring the lifelessness in my voice. "E-mail him or something." "Why should we?" I mumbled. "What would the point of it all be?" "So we can get to the bottom of this!" Yan cried. "Why are we still here, in this situation?" I asked abruptly, despite of her obvious remar

VIII. What Was the Answer?/Epilogue I found myself talking to Jenny again, despite all that had happened. I wanted to ask what she was trying to tell me the last time we'd seen each other, and I wanted to know what she meant when she asked where I'd been. Instead, the words began spilling out of her mouth, and I ended up having to forgive her – instead of the other way around. "I know I shouldn't have jump to conclusions and directed you with that question. I guess I just...I guess I don't know what really had gotten into me when I decided to blurt it out..." I looked at her empathetically, nodding at each sentence. I held her arm a