“My friend went to Japan to watch Baby Metal and he…” You went on and on about how he was surprised that the Japanese concert audience knew exactly when to dance and what move to do during the music fest, how he crowd-surfed for the first time in his ubiquitous concert-going life, how he visited that Kimi no Na wa staircase, how he told you about it first, how — a blue Toyota Vios passed by — he has a blue Toyota Vios. He calls it Dos because his plate number starts with TWO — though he also considered Trese because his plate number, the TWO and the following three digits, added up to thirteen. The blue Vios that drove by, however, was not Dos. So you continue walking. You think again about his stories of Japan, getting lost in Shibuya, walking into the Evangelion store, spending his Php 80,000 pocket money the first time he went to the Land of the Rising — then, you realize how much you know about him. All seemingly trivial but all makes up what his person is. You miss him dearly.
You see another blue Vios. But, of course, it’s not him.
(writing practice inspired by unphotographable.com)