Summertime Sadness Carisma, Tanjuatco (Junior - G) I Music was seeping through wires of copper, travelling to her ears.

She pressed the tiny button on the piece of metal. The screen came to life and small letters under the large numbers, which showed the time, read: Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 8, RV 315 "L'estate". A voice came in from outside the counter. "Excuse me, Miss! Can I have a cup of water?" Summer put the music on pause, and went to get a cup of water for the customer at the far end of the caf. This was her daily routine: taking orders, making coffee, serving it, washing the dishes, then repeat. She was a part-timer. She didn't get that much for her pay. There are times when her manager does not treat her properly. It wasn't the best job in the world, but she was content with it. She did her best to finish up everything so she can finish her shift. The counters became clean and plates were washed so thoroughly they would make a squeaking sound when fingers would run through the surface. Even her manger was impressed with her speed.

It was a Wednesday on a July on some country near the northern Pacific. The sun was bright that day--too bright. Traffic was everywhere; there was too much heat that waves rose from cars lined up in such an urban jungle. Reports confirmed that it was the hottest day of the year. Many thought it was a consequence of global warming. While a few thought it was the work of some magical force. She took a cab, paid the fee, and went to the airport. She was about to meet someone that night. II The airport was crowded that day. It was the peak of the travelling season due to the good weather. Summer came in through the automatic door and went to the waiting area. She got her phone and checked the message for the millionth time since she received it two days ago. "I'm going there two days from now. Meet me at the airport at 6:00 PM, waiting area 12B. I'm flight 220-B from Shanghai. I'll be waiting." She was waiting. She checked her watch. It was 6:20 PM.

She looked for him among the many people who came from the arrival area. A lot of people waved their hands as they saw their relative, friend or acquaintance going down the ramp, pushing their trolleys full of bags. After a while, she checked her watch again. 7:00 PM Afterwards, the airport management made an announcement through the pager system of the area. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Flight 220-B from Shanghai was momentarily delayed at the start of its flight due to engine problems and will be arriving at 1930H. We apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused. Thank you." "Oh well", she thought. Delays like these were inevitable. It was normal especially during travel seasons at their peak. She patiently waited and stood at one of the posts nearby. The sign "12-B" was painted on it. She looked up, and her eyes widened. He was here. She saw him and a river of memories flowed through her mind. They weren't necessarily good. "Timothy, you're here." "Yup. Long time no see! the fellow greeted her with a jolly tone. It was as if nothing much happened over the past years. "How have you been?" she shyly inquires.

"Let's go." He grabs her by the arm and brings her to a convenience store. He bought four bottles of soju. They then sit at a gutter Afterwards, he finally replies to her question. "How am I? Good question." He only replied with laughter. He continued drinking throughout the night, cocktail after cocktail, mumbling meaningless words until Summer became concerned. She only finished her one margarita and only ordered glasses of water afterwards. "You should stop drinking at some point, you know," she comments. Timothy stared her with some form of dark intent. She didn't know exactly what it was; it just wasn't right. She didn't know what would happen next. She grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, and presses his lips onto hers. However, it wasn't the kiss of a romantic sort. Second after second, his kiss became more painful and violent--to a point where Summer could no longer breathe. She pushed him away, but he would not move for her words, although harmless, provoked him to make his move and commit a terrible mistake in what will happen afterwards. A fist landed on Summer's abdomen with brute force. Another one followed--this time on her face.

A barrage of fists hit her. Her mouth started bleeding. The surrounding skin around her eyes became hued dark. A number of injuries, both physical and emotional, followed. No one was out on street at that hour, so neither help nor interference came to stop them. Summer was helpless, and so was Timothy. They were so helpless that they passed out after a while. Summer fainted first as she was knocked out unconscious from the storm of punches she received. Timothy simply became overwhelmed from fatigue both from the flight and from the energy he had used on Summer and the effects of the alcohol. III Three months had passed. Summer woke up from her unusually long slumber. Timothy was beside her as she did. His apartment was cozy and cheerful. On a bright day, rays of sunlight passing through the glass wall embraced one with caress. It was empty, but full. Its yellow and orange furnishings appeared like citrus fruits scattered on the wooden floor. The room was every bit of playful one might imagine. She walked around the rooms barefooted, becoming increasingly curious with each peek she receives from the different rooms until she tripped on something: Timothy's wallet.

A picture stuck out from one of its pockets. She took it out and looked at it. She stood still. She became agitated, and ran with speed towards Timothy. "What is this?" she asked in a calm but petrifyingly serious aura. It was a picture of Timothy and another girl, Autumn, together. Their passion was frozen in time. Their passion was printed on paper. Their passion was poison to Summer. "Choose," she said, holding up the picture with her right hand. "Choose now. You don't need to explain. I understand everything now." "Fine. I choose Autumn." Summer breathed one big, heavy breath as she left the apartment unit. She left without looking back, got into her car, and drove off. Timothy received a text message a few hours after she left: "Go to the mountain tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting." She stopped at a store to buy pen and paper, and then continued her journey to the mountain near the sea. She arrived after two hours of driving, and sat on rocks near a cliff. She brought out the pen and the paper, and started writing. She wrote the following words down, with a heavy heart.

IV "I do not think my story is worthy of anyone's attention. But I hope this letter will reach Timothy. However, even if it doesn't make it, I'm taking that small chance that someone from some place would be able to listen to me. I am Summer, a born human being. I am Summer, a girl with dreams of her own. I am Summer, someone who fell in love. I am someone who fell in love. But that love was taken, and played with, got stepped on, and destroyed. I, for a few moments in my life, felt relieved that someone would be there. My family was taken from me. What only remains is memories. Many memories. I remembered that July night, that night that I almost died. I didn't feel hate or anger. I felt pity. I felt that I needed to love him, for him to stay. I thought those two months were the happiest for me, but that was when I was actually became the most naive being ever to live on the planet. But I still think he is the best: for a person to be able to love someone like me like that, even for a short genuine while, I should've given him credit. I will miss him forever, like stars looking for the moon in the night sky.

However, everything became clear to me now. Thank you. I hope we meet someday in the future." That piece of paper was found at a mountain, near a pool of blood, seeping from the forehead, arms, and broken limbs, as vibrant a red as the leaves that fell down from the heavens.