[46]

lisa never ages. at least physically. she’s always 23. her mind though, it constitutes a whole lot of visions and missions and decades and lifetimes of the universe. sometimes i could tell if it’s early or late. but sometimes i have a hard time deciphering. 

i’m sitting on a park bench drinking some ice cold tea i bought from the hospital vending machine. it’s funny how lisa never knew how to operate such things. she ends up kicking it out of frustration. i can’t help but laugh. she’s a thousand years old. 

i skimmed through the black book i was holding for a while now. the pages on lisa’s diary are now almost full. i stopped flipping through the pages and my fingers landed on the story of our honeymoon in malibu. i felt my cheeks heat up a little. that was the day i found out that rum tastes better than whiskey. or maybe because i sipped it through her lips. 

“hello.”  my thoughts were interrupted when a tall girl seated next to me. she’s wearing a cap, holding a cup of coffee. she smells nice, too. “is this seat taken?” she asked unassumingly. i looked at her and tried my best to pull off a poker face. 

“no. you can take it.” i replied and hid my smile. 

she’s early. she looks young. younger than i have ever seen her. 

lisa always told me that several versions of her will be visiting from time to time. she doesn’t know when or how or in what form, but she will. her time in the universe is and will always be int