The Yearning
Just like any other girl, I once entered a restaurant.
Its facade was oddly attractive. And I wasn't hungry at that moment but something—probably my intuition, told me to get in. And so I did.
As soon as I sat on its well-polished chair, I was intrigued by the menu. It was unfamiliar, and I was somehow scared to waste my money on something that was not worth it.
A chef, so good-looking, approached me, and asked, "How may I help you, ma'am?" He had this bright and soft aura around him that gave me a sense of relief. So I replied, "Can you recommend a dish that is not too overwhelming? You know, I'm just not familiar with these types of food."
He smiled at me with assurance, "Very well ma'am, I will bring you a dish that you will surely crave time after time." He said.
So I sat there waiting as he went back to wherever he was.
After a few minutes of waiting, the same chef served me an artistic yet appetizing dish. It was a dish I hadn't led my eyes on.
I said my gratitude and waved goodbye. I left the restaurant with a lesson—to try new dishes.
The chef was right, I craved the food he served time after time. So I went back and forth to that restaurant. Enjoying the food he cooked for me.
However, it struck me when I found out that the chef I once knew and fancied, retired.
But I still went into that restaurant. It wasn't the same anymore, how could it? The chef who used to serve me those great foods is gone. And nowhere to find.
One day, I wandered all around the city. And guess what? The chef who used to serve me is serving another girl, in a different restaurant.
I saw the girl's eyes, the eyes I once had when I entered that other restaurant for the first time. And he was there, assuring the girl, and serving the same dish I had.
That chef used to smile at me, he used to serve me, but now, he's serving another girl. And I'm here, at the restaurant we first met, waiting and yearning for the same chef to serve me my favorite food again
