She was also warmed to the idea I could be rescuing her from jail. We would know if I did or not in a few moments from now when the police officers stopped harassing the kids in hopes of shaming them into quiescence and left without taking any one of us in a handcuffs. That would be the ideal outcome we all hoped for. 

I didn't know if there was a due process in practice in the judicial system, if such a system had already been established and functioning. I just knew if we were to land behind bars, we would be at the mercy of these police officers who had no regard for the law when it came to dealing with us kids, they wanted to remove us from the streets as if we were pieces of used toilet paper that had plastered to the sidewalk due to rain the previous morning and were offensive to the eyes of the pedestrians. What they didn't realize was that we were humans, too, Cambodians just like them, children of the Killing Fields, at least, showed us a little decency and courtesy based on those grounds.

Fortunately, I had never been hauled to a jail cell or a court room to experience the judicial syterm at work. Therefore, I could not elaborate on the operations of the court system in Cambodia during that time, but I felt as though the police officers were a little too authoritarian -- that didn't sit well with me.

From my observation of her, she was in her teen with long silky black hair extending an inch below her shoulder blades, flailing in the the breeze, tugging at her scalp as if wanting to lead her away from me. Somehow, she chose to remain in place. There must be something she saw in me that kept her around or she had something up her sleeves. I must proceed with caution.

Nonetheless, it was a good sign; two strangers met in the most undesirable environment and neither wanted to part the other.

She caught me leering at her and smiled; her smile was one of her greatest attributes that later would define who she was; I smiled back bashfully like a boy whose hand got caught in a cookie jar, wanted to look away, anywhere, in any direction but couldn't; nothing was prettier than her, and I said this with a certain amount of decorum and expertise; I knew this area; I played here, lived here; it was my house and backyard, and I hadn't seen anything lovilier than her.

I had explored every inch of Phnom Penh, I couldn't think of any object of desire that could be more beautiful than her, not diamond, gold, or silver rings, ornaments and/or crowns; all shine but only she could outshine the sun, the moon and the stars. She was the girl who found me several moments ago, and now I found her hiding in my backyard as if by design.

The confined space had nudged us closer together, didn't matter our opinion or protest; it had to have its way. I felt like I had just been ushered into a coffin and a woman of my dream was there awaiting my arrival; we became alive and alert, calmed and relaxed as if we chose to be in there for a greater purpose, maybe to save our world from a possible destruction.

Due to the approximity of our bodies, there existed that uneasy feeling standing defiantly between us at first then it went away after realizing love could conquer all, leaving us feeling jovial and wanted at times.

She remained friendly and convivial despite the potential of being found, and dragged to jail by those police officers who ran the capital like complete autocrats.

I sensed a good friendship was forging; our circusmtances made it possible for us to bond, not only at the heart but also at the mind; next step was to touch her soul with mine. I hoped to melt it like a hot knife on butter.

She became more affable by the minutes, seemingly free spirited, the more we communicated with our eyes, our smiles and glances. She and I had become accustomed to conversing with silences as though we, ourselves, were Master Masons, and no one could ever decipher what we said to each other, and we would rather give up our lives than reveal our secrets.

She dressed eclectically, not afraid of being an iconoclast, and I always had the tendency to chase after this type of girls whose spirits are always allowed to wander freely with little supervision. I found their carefree modus vivendi rather appeasing and accommendating to the lifestyle I had created for myself.

A face could launch a thousand ships; her smile could break a thousand hearts. Mine would probably be one of the thousand if I hadn't been cautious. I just docked my heart in a safe harbor for now even though that's not what a heart is for; I'd rather be safe than going through an emotional storm.

A girl like her could be very dangerous to any man's heart. She could be a Cupid's arrow, except when it struck a heart, it it would be excruciatingly painful, if not careful, the heart would explode; the man could take his own life. I was hoping I would not end up being that man. It was not how I wanted my life to end.

Sokom had warned me of girls like her, "Stay out of her arrow's path. Don't let it find your heart. It can take a man down to his knees. It can even make a man cry at night."

I had never been a credulous person, had always asking for verifiable documents before I could believe in anything or anyone but with her, I had to trust Sokom; I had my heart to protect; if I could, I would arrow proof it. I had already cried at night, I didn't want to drain myself of any more tears.

Maybe it was not intended but the situation we were in was intimate; we were forced to be together no matter what the circumstance was, by any means necessary; we were destined to find each other at that moment in that spot; I believe the spot was reserved for us even though it wasn't pleasing to the eyes. We were face to face, nose to nose; we could smell each other's scent -- I had never smell anything sweeter.

Each of us has a unique scent that identifies who we are, just like our DNA does so do our fingerprints.

If we stayed another minute longer, we could become intoxicated by our own scents, confused by our own emotions as we tried to read each other's thoughts.

I was sure she was opining about me; questions swirling around her head, so many that she couldn't focus on one. I would be as myterious as she was to me, but right now, she needed me even though I was a complete stranger; to her, I could be her savior. As long as I was by her side, she was confident she could ride pass this troublesome episode. I was her crutch she found in the moment, and I would be happy if I could just be that to her. I was hoping I could be more than she would expect of me; I could just be a surprise after another; I was capable of being more, I could be anything I chose to be as far I was concerned. I must be more for her well being, for my as well as hers.

From the looks in her eyes, it was an indubitable fact that she enjoyed my company and I hers. Whatever awkwardness that persisted a few moments ago had vanished, leaving us stranded on our hiding spot and we wished we would never be found. Even if we wanted to leave each other at this precise moment, we couldn't. The police officers were still demanding answers from the kids. 

And it didn't seem like she was heading to the slammer any time soon. She became jubilant at the notion; she had me to thank, and she would immediately after the police officers had leave the scene, and after we vacated our hiding spot, hopefully hand in hand as I had willed it to happen. Unfortunately, it wouldn't likely to happen the way I willed because holding hands in Cambodia is not widely accepted or tolerated; the couple will be frowned upon or shunned.

As a young man with plenty of time to kill, I often played with my imagination, exhausted myself to sleep at night by letting my thoughts roam freely in the quietness of the universe, all the possibilities life has to offer would come alive; anything was possible as long as I could clearly visualize it. Tonight, I would invite her to play with me on the playground in my mind.

I could see she started to losen up a little, allowing her shoulders to slump for the very first time, straightening up her spine, breathing heavier now, sucking in more air into her lungs so the cells in her body could also breathe. Suddenly, she appeared taller, more womanly, exuding confidence and mysteries, appearing indomitable; if I were those police officers, I wouldn't dare come anywhere near her vacinity.

I wanted to know her, her very being; I wanted to reach in and touch her soul; I wanted to discover the essence of her, the nectar that sustained her life.

So far, she had me wondered about every aspect of her being, re-awakening the region of my mind that was in repose. What was the first thing she thought of when she woke up? If I could, I would crawl into her mind to be her for a moment, to know what it would be like to be someone whose beauty couldn't be compared to anything or anyone on this planet,  to be in touch with her emotions. 

Did I play an significant part in envoking and stirring those emotions? Essentially, what was in me that caused her to become emotionally involved with me, and why did she welcome it, let it happen to her or encourage it to happen? My enquiring was pleading for answers to these questions.

She had reenergized my life; I had awakened to new days. Suddenly, my life had meaning, had value; I wanted to keep it in my possession and defend it from all  that wanted to rob it from me. Even I was surprised by the prevalence of my optimism about the future -- a future that had her dancing and prancing on the surface of the moon, living in a white castle on the outskirts of London, dining on the Eiffel Tower and climbing steps of Angkor Wat; all that is grand and great was handed to her in a silver plate. If she wanted to don a crown, I would borrow one from the Queen of England.

She could outshine the moon, the star and the sun; only her future could be brighter.

It was time for me to explore this magnificent creature that was facing me, getting to know the core of her being by introducing myself to the warrior that dwelled inside her soul, who always stood ready to attack like a guard dog in a gang infected neighborhood during her moments of vurnerability.

"Hello." I extended my right hand toward the warrior guarding the entrance to her soul for a possible handshake.

He narrowed his beady little eyes at me instead. He was aplomb, older man with a sword rested in its sheath that was strapped to a belt that gripped tightly around his portly waist, pallid as thought he had never seen the sun.

"Can we be friends?" I waited for his reply after I put that question to him. He allowed a few more moments to pass. I could tell he wasn't interested in befriending me.

He had been disappointed before by those who claimed to be his friends, and when he turned away, they reached in and touched her soul without first asking for his blessing; he felt betrayed by them.

I would, too if I were him.

So now, he was more cautious. He had promised her he wouldn't be careless again, that it would be hard for to put his trust in a man, any man, and that he was sorry he had let men hurt her in the past when he was a neophyte, a guard in training.

"What brought you here?" he asked in a low, yet, domineering tone, meant to be threatening but was not to me. His stentorian voice made him sound older that he actually was.

"Her soul," I replied while keeping my eyes on him as a precaution due to his capricious nature. I was sure he would appreciate honesty, and he did.

"What do they call you?"

"Sojean -- Soj. Soj if you will." I slashed my name in half, hoping it would make it easier for him to remember and picture and pronounce it correctly.

"Soj?"

I nodded my head and added a grin; he wouldn't reciprocate. It appeared once he made up his about something, he was totally inexorable. The funny thing was I couldn't abhor him for being such. In fact, I could simpathise with him. Since now that my name had plaqued his tongue, he would never forget me. I forever branded his mind.

"Soj" would unconsciously roll off his tongue the next time he and I met. Indeed, that was my intention in shortening my name.

The warrior sized me up for a few more moments then perfunctorily shoke my hand after learning my sincere, innocuous intention.

"You're a kid."  He was surprised by my youthfulness.  I couldn't understand why he displayed such a reaction to my looks. Besides, this wasn't the reason I came to see him so I decided to press forward, being relentless to reach her soul.

"I'm an old soul," I said, reassuring my honesty to him; whether he believed me or not was another story.

The warrior understood what I meant; he could empathise with me. After all, he was an old soul, too.

He paused to ponder while his eyes stayed narrowed at me like studying me under a stereoscope, searching for any flaw in my character. Althgouh there were many, he had difficult in detecting one; his eyes must be losing its optimum performance.

He learned from my body movements that I had to hurry back to where I came from, and he agreed to accommendating me in any way he could. He wouldn't mind, in fact, he would prefer leading a man further away from her soul. If he could do that every time, he would breathe easier; his life would be much simpler. Now, he could only fondly think of those halcyon days before he was trained to become the guard of her soul.

"You hurt her and I'll eviscerate your heart from your ribcage," exhorted the warrior then glared at me like he was about to slash me open with his sword to get access to my now pounding heart.

Somehow, I was expecting to hear such exhortation from him. He wouldn't just let any man into her soul unless he received clearly written permission from her.

Even though she didn't require such an unnecessary step to be taken; he just wanted to assure her of his commintment to the protection of her soul and that he wouldn't be credulous again. He would be suspicious of any man's intention.

I didn't think she was such a martinet as he made her to be. She couldn't be but then again I didn't know her well enough, yet, to say his assessment of her was completely wrong. I shouldn't be making such an accusation.

I nodded understandingly, if I didn't, he would sure have my heart eviscerated then put in a hand basket to be delivered to her and she wouldn't feel a loss because I hadn't touched her soul.

I gingerly inched back in hopes he wouldn't have to brandish his sword, and expense energy wielding it at me. If he did, it would be an act of war. I should avoid war with her at all cost.

"I just wanted to get acquainted with her soul. I didn't mean to anger you."

"No one touches her soul!" He growled like Cujo even though he was not in any way resemble a canine.

"No one?" I dared to ask the warrior, not to annoy him; I was curious, testing his stance, pushing his button and waited for his reaction.

"No one!"

He roared like a caged tiger then stormed out, probably didn't believe a word I said to him. The warrior probably had seen lots of men approaching him demanding for a meeting with her soul, and he would turned them all away before they could expel their first word.

"Can I at least know her name?" I was testing his patience; I wasn't willing to leave empty handed, and to my surprise, I didn't, in fact, I left with crucial information with me; it wasn't purloined; it was picked up from the corner of my eyes -- the reward for being observant in time of distress.

He ignored my question, didn't even turn to look at me. He was old and wise, more imperious than he appeared to be; it was obvious to me he had seen a lot through her eyes; it seemed she had to battle her whole life just to get this point; the old warrior had shown me many of her emotional scars as he was turning away from me.  Now that I had seen a glimpse of her old soul, I wanted to reach out to her even more. 

I sighed a relief after the warrior was gone.  I was sure to meet him against simply because I needed to get to know her even though her soul was well guarded.

The warrior made it clear to me that it was not going to be easy to ingratiate myself to her soul, to plant a seed to make her mind aware of my interest in getting acquainted with her.

I may have won her heart and mind but breaking into her soul would be another matter entirely. It would probably be easier to break into the royal palace during daylight.

I must persist -- that is if she would not run away from me. I didn't think she would because I sensed she knew me or at least heard of me from someone and liked what she was  told about me.

I would soon know how much of a challenge she was to me as I tried to charm her according to the plan Sokom had laid out for me to impliment.

The alley was not an ideal place for a budding love to kindle. I said love because I felt a sensation that was running around my heart incredibly fast, making it skip a few beats at a time, and when it did, the heart became light as a feather, rendering gravity useless; she sent my heart afluttered without taking my age into a consideration.

She was dangerous; I had to be extremely careful when revolving around her. She could capture me by gripping the heart and wouldn't let it go.

My heart would ache.

There was no urgency to prompt us to our feet and relocate ourselves elsewhere so we remained where we were, enjoying the silence shared between us.

As long as there was something being shared, no one would feel neglected. I often forget to live by this creed.

God must have taken His sweet, sweet time when He was making her, paying close attentions to the muscles effecting her smiles. She must be one of His favorites. He must have liked me, too. I must have done something He found pleasing.

If she was famous, she would be known around the world for her remarkable smile -- a smile unmistakably hers which later became her trademark, in my mind.

I was sitting by her side, grinning with absolute inner glee. I could let this moment last forever, and I wouldn't feel like I missed anything important. It was a perfect moment -- perfect for me; I had a female company.

And when she smiled, her lips perked up; this involuntary muscle movements in her lips made her even more attractive. I was drawn to her way of smiling. I was wishing she would flash more smiles my way, then I would really have a good reason to be staring at her.

I wished I could crack some jokes but I was never a funny guy. I wished I could dance but I never danced before. All I could do was smiling back at her in silence. It was a moment of bliss, but it didn't last long, no matter what I did in trying to prolong it.

Of all the fishes in the ocean, she had to reel me in. I was afraid my life would never be the same again.

Love changes things.

We watched as the police officers interrogated the remaining kids with what seemed like an endless process; the kids lied with finesse; I admired their sangfroid; they would not be persuaded even with threats of violence against them.

The police officers grilled the kids several more minutes before calling it quit. The kids spat back with words that would mislead the police officers, knowing not to divulge sensitive information regarding her and my whereabouts.

Vexed and annoyed, the police bolted out in a different direction, continuing their pursuit of her.

I couldn't believe the kids would be that imperturbable in the midst of the police interrogation.

I wrote negatively of those police officers not to traduce them but to expose them for their gestapo behaviors which were in direct violation of human rights.

Questions were tossing and turning inside my head, demanding some questions, which I couln't provide.  How could I? She was still a complete mystery to me at this point.

I stole more glances at her; I was intrigued by her and by her predicaments. My inquiring mind wanted to know all about her. I wanted to ask her endless questions but I didn't feel like she was ready to engage in a conversation with a younger person.

She was still visibly shaking, well, at least, it seemed like she was shaking. There was a slight trembling in her hands; she was nervous, and I couldn't blame her; no one could; I was, too. She was facing the possibility of jail time, and so was I.

There we were, hiding from the world, just the two of us, lost in the moment. Above us were looming skyscrapers, keeping their eyes on us, curious as to what we were going to do next; I was, too.

"Hi," I said, the moment was right; I was compelled to open my mouth; something was urging me, cheering me on; I couldn't let it down.

"Hi." She chuckled, relieved.  "Wow, I could talk again. So refreshing."

She was embullient, and I didn't want to spoil her moment with idle chat so I left her to celebrate this rare moment on her own.

I watched her in an amazement. I was amazed by the fact she was simple; a simple word "hi" brought a smile to her -- my kind of girl...simple, yet, thought provoking, low maintenance and fun.

I was about to have some fun.

I didn't feel like talking; neither did she.  Even though we were free to scream and shout until our vocal chords hurt, we chose to remain silent...for another moment.

Words seemed meaningless, unnecessary when love was standing before us.  It seemed love did all the talking, and all we could do was looking into each other's eyes; it felt right, magical at times.

She pranced, twirled; she pirouetted. She could be a ballerina if she wanted to; she already had a lithe body of a ballerina.

Tags: I Survived Mindeyes19 And His NSA Agents VIII

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