She chased the bus down the stretch of road, the usual, familiar scenery zooming past her as she ran. Kicking up the leaves and nearly stumbling over a rock, she managed to reach the bus before the driver made to close the door.

“Thank you,” she panted, making her way down the aisle to her favorite seat by the window.

She heaved a sigh of relief as she reached into her bag for her cellphone to check her time. She had to be in time for the next class or her plans for the rest of the day would all be delayed. Searching through her bag anxiously for her cellphone, she calmed herself down by taking deep breaths.

“I’ll be on time, I’ll be on time…”

She never planned her day to be jampacked with so many things before: class after class, assignments after assignments… It was enough to drive anyone crazy. But if she did not fulfill these, she would definitely go crazy…

The bus jerked and out fell her mp3 onto the floor. The plastic fell apart and the mp3 bounced out of it when the bus jerked once more.

“Oh no!” she reached down for the mp3 and picked it up hurriedly, blowing the dust off the mp3 and inspecting it inch by inch. With a pang, she discovered a scratch on the screen. She had had it for more than two years now… And it was one of the things she treasured most. She stroked the light scratch on the mp3, leaning back on the seat and looking out of the window, biting her lip.

There used to be a pair, identical ones. They were gotten on the same day as well, although at different shops, under the recommendation of someone who meant so much to her. It was chic, small and red, his favorite color. She never used to like red much, not until he did. He got his mp3 with his first pay from army, while she got hers with her first pay from work too. Money never used to be of any problem at sweet times like this, the honeymoon period of the relationship was stronger than anything else.

The other one was sold a few months ago, although she was adamant to keep hers. It had remained protected in the plastic armor, without even the tiniest scratch. Often, she took it out to polish it. It meant more than just an mp3 to her, even if its twin was sold. But now, looking down at the scratched music player, tears welled up in her eyes. The twin was gone a few months ago, but it did not matter, for he remained by her side. But now he had chosen to leave, and all she was left with was one of the couple mp3s they had bought together… Yet she had failed to protect it.

The bus zoomed past her stop as tears rolled down her cheeks, finger still stroking the little scratch on the mp3 as though it would make it disappear… as though it would make her feel more complete.


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