Hello..

Saturday, around 4 AM:

Induced by one miraculous sleeping pill, my deep slumber was disturbed by Rihanna's Umbrella. I thought that I was just dreaming, but Rihanna was singing from my cellphone. Good thing was that my battery was fully charged at that time. So, of course, realizing that the phone was actually ringing, I answered it.

Philippe: Hello? ( a phlegmatic noise gurgling from the effects of the pill)
Caller: Hello!
Philippe: Hello... ( this time, I was sure of who the caller was)
Caller: Hi!
Philippe: hanged-up, grabbed a can of San Miguel Pale Pilsen, a pack of Marlboro Menthols and went to commit a suicide.

The caller was the Ex, and I didn't die. Well, I thought I did for a while, but no, I have too many drama episodes to commit into.

Sunday morning:

I was dealing with a pretty mad stomach. I have a steel-designed stomach, so I wasn't sure of why my stomach was hurting me.

Cellphone rings. A text message: "Philip, hearing your hellos was exciting though abrupt. It seemed technology failed my own hellos to echo. Would it be alright if I make another attempt?"

I thought, second attempt for what? Another hello that would lead to my suicidal nature? A second hello that might lead for his another 'raining on my life'?

Or maybe, another hello to tell me that he wants his things back? This time for good?

I have no way of knowing, because no hello came from me this time.