Adam Ocampo is a premier world-class painter who went back to his hometown in search of a perfect place for his art and a home for his heart. His search for Teresa Milan draws him closer to long-lost memories, past grievances, and the closure of forgiveness.
View MoreNothing. She was amazed by how that single word could turn into a feeling, a dagger that could pierce into her flesh and leave a fatal wound, with no assurance that it would stop bleeding. She was always used to being left alone--until the day she had seen Adam turn his back towards her, leaving a hole in her heart. She could feel the hole in her chest growing, with an endless world of gloom swirling inside of her. With each step he took, pulling his presence slowly away from her, her soul being torn apart under extreme agony that it is without a body to rest itself in. It's so unfair. How could genuine love be paid back with indifference? She wondered with tears in her eyes as she just stood there at the same spot where he started walking away from her, te
While Tree and Perry walked back towards the campus to end the day by returning to their dorms, Adam headed to town and gave himself time in recalling the events of the day. Things seemed to have gotten pretty much out of hand and a little bit of dramatic--which, he felt, was something he did not deserve given the fact he only wanted to take a short break earlier today. He was well aware of the topic involving himself on social media. He heard it from one of the students talking, not knowing they were being listened to by the one directly involved. He didn't seem to have fully comprehended how people made such a big deal out of petty things whenever they see something in a screen. He wondered if these people even wondered how pathetic they behave. But little did he know that they thought him as handsomely pathetic too.
It did not take long for Teresa Milan to return the pile of books in their designated bookshelves, just a few minutes after Adam left the floor. She had always loved her scheduled shifts in the library, as she had always been a bookworm ever since she was young. But, today had been quite unusual for her when the turn of events have disrupted her usual routine at work. She did not expect two of the most well-known students in their campus would disturb her peace at work. She even helped one of them--the most notorious one, to escape something that she did not even bother to know what it was about. At least he did his best to help in rearranging the books,she thought.I'll give him an 'A' for his effort... After she waited for another library assistant to start the shift in her place at three in the afternoo
Adam suddenly realized it's already 3 P.M. He lost track of time, and he felt he entirely missed the rest of his psychology class. But then, he thought he could still catch up to a few more minutes of discussion left. It shouldn't have been that way; he only wanted to have a decent smoking break for just about ten minutes. If only that girl didn't show up. He hurriedly walked up the steps toward the entrance of the Social Sciences Building. As he was about to go through the door, the bell rang. Adam stopped and breathed a sigh. He missed the rest of the class today. As a stream of other college students flowed from the inside of the building, Adam saw a familiar face carrying his bag. She smiled at her friends waving goodbye at her. Within a second, they caught a glimpse of Adam and their smiles slightly faded. Sasha, with her
The open field was a commotion that day. There was a campus fair where booths and university clubs have been set up all over the grounds. Everybody was having fun except Adam, who was running frantically across the busy area and bumped carelessly into anyone who was in his way. "Come here, you asshole!" Axel shouted angrily at a near distance. He and his football buddies were running to reach him and were hungry for taking an act of revenge towards him. All the more did the people got out of their way. Who would want to bump into four football athletes running? "Never in a million years, bird brain!" Adam cockily shouted back as he jumped across the cart of popcorn crossing along the way. Popcorn flew everywhere like confetti. People tried to get out of his way and trie
After the short meeting with Greg Porter, Adam took a little more time rediscovering the campus grounds. He walked across the open field and looked at the entire surrounding once again. He never realized how much he missed the place.He found a wooden bench and sat down to rest for a bit. The wind made another whisper across the field, waving through the trees. No press, no meetings, no deadlines. Just him. He loved that moment.Then a few minutes later while embracing the solitude, Adam looked to see who it was as the sound of feet running through the grass drew nearer. It was another student carrying a stack of books, struggling to keep her balance. Because of the soft grass, her pace became uneven, and her footing got lost along the way. She tripped, and the books scattered across the ground. Adam rushed towards her to help her
Lights from cameras flickered like stars on a moonless night, like supernovas gone wild. Adam squinted his eyes a little from all the lights flashing in front of him that’s faster than a wink. Is this even necessary? He wondered to himself. Yes, it was necessary, if it wasn’t he wouldn’t be able to sell his paintings. His beloved works of art. He was sitting in front of a whole audience of people representing the presswho are hopelessly hunched up in their seats, recklessly scribbling down notes in their notepads, adjusting their camera lenses, and clearing their throats from time to time. He looked at them with hisownrestlessness. “Mr. Ocampo,” a reporter asked. “What do you feel about your paintings being sold? You have said during your previous interviews that these new sets of paintings that were auctioned recently were like th
Lights from cameras flickered like stars on a moonless night, like supernovas gone wild. Adam squinted his eyes a little from all the lights flashing in front of him that’s faster than a wink. Is this even necessary? He wondered to himself. Yes, it was necessary, if it wasn’t he wouldn’t be able to sell his paintings. His beloved works of art. He was sitting in front of a whole audience of people representing the presswho are hopelessly hunched up in their seats, recklessly scribbling down notes in their notepads, adjusting their camera lenses, and clearing their throats from time to time. He looked at them with hisownrestlessness. “Mr. Ocampo,” a reporter asked. “What do you feel about your paintings being sold? You have said during your previous interviews that these new sets of paintings that were auctioned recently were like th...
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