Brando leaned back against the cold wall, his eyes staring at the sky above the bridge where he and Alvin often found shelter. His voice was low, almost trembling with longing.
"I want to see her again," he murmured, "but in our situation like this, how will I ever see her?"
Alvin, sitting cross-legged beside him, tilted his head curiously. "How does she look like?"
Brando's eyes softened. A faint smile crossed his lips. "She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
Alvin smirked. "Ah, so that's why you like her."
But Brando shook his head firmly. "It's not just her beauty. Before I met her, I had already seen her in my dreams. I'll never forget those eyes."
Alvin laughed lightly. "That's cool. And you—you're a handsome man yourself. It should be easy for you to court a woman."
Brando sighed. "Maybe for someone else. But she looked rich, and I'm just… me. Poor. To her, I'm nothing. She's only a dream."
"So, what about your feelings then?" Alvin pressed.
