You bent your body on your bed. Like a child, you held your knees and closed your eyes. You're praying for this silence to break, for this pain on your chest to disappear. You still had your BlackBerry in your palm. You opened your eyes, lifted your hand in front of your head, and stared at that smartphone for a whole five minutes. Hesitated.

You finally lowered your hand, closed your eyes again and let the phone slipped from your hand and onto the bed.

City lights of Melbourne westward looked intensively amazing through your apartment window. It's like the city had been wrapped by a golden chain. You could even see the sparkling diamonds of West Gate Bridge near the horizon. If only you were willing to take a couple steps toward your window, opened it, and let the night wind of Melbourne softly caress your face, you'd hear me whisper: "Why don't you pick up your phone?"

You stayed put. Wished the warmth of your bed would calm the coldness of your surrounding. It didn't take long, you tossed and turned. As if trying to figure out the best position of sleeping. But loneliness for you, never been the greatest lullaby. Your hands searching for a phone underneath the blanket that was hugging your body from toe to shoulder. But as your fingers touched the phone screen, again, you hesitated. I was watching and praying. That this time you would pick up your phone.

You don't have to be alone, I would want to say. Because we could make it work, if only you give it a chance. But your ears always turned deaf every time I said those. It's like you already closed the door that's not even half opened.

You still wouldn't pick up your phone.

This time you sat up and sighed heavily. You're just sick and tired of this situation. All this silence and loneliness that ate you alive, piece by piece. You would want to say it's enough. You wanted to scream and cry even only for two minutes. You needed warm body to hold you close. Feeling the other's life energy seeping through your skin. To remind you that you, too, a human being. And I guessed my voice was never enough.

They said when you focused on one thing, the rest became unseen. It happened to you. Cause you saw only possibilities. You stopped believing in faith and blame it to fate. You didn't want to be hurt, you said. Stop it. Before it's too late and irreversible. But still you're alone, felt utterly small beneath the big sky of Victoria.

Finally you put your blanket aside, rather roughly. It's enough, you decided. You got up from your bed and headed to a desk beside the closet, almost like running. You grabbed your car key and rushed for the front door. Not even bothered to put on a jacket. It's a mid January night; the weather was still warm even when it's almost ten at the evening.

Suddenly you stopped, remembered something had been forgotten. You walked back toward your bedroom and saw white-cased BlackBerry on your bed, half covered by a pillow. You grabbed it and, again, stared at it. You always hated chickens, now you're cursing yourself for becoming one of them. You pressed the bottom and searched for a name on your phonebook. But instead of dialing, you canceled and put the phone back onto your pocket.

You had decided something and you would not change your mind. You never did. Even when it came back crushing you. What's done, done. And I hated, as well as I loved, you for that.

You walked out of your room and headed to the front door of your small, one bedroom apartment. You opened the door and stepped outside. Then you closed and locked the door behind you. Never once looking back.

While I could only stared at the silhouette of your back... slowly faded as one door closed.