Finally, the triple-short story has been edited enough for public consumption... let's see what the people think...

Time to revise the Unsent Wanderer...

.:Three's A Crowd:.

Poor guy. He has no idea at all. Here we are, waiting for some Chinese "fast" food, and he's cramping my style. I had no idea Martin would be here. I was supposed to meet Geneva for dinner and then take her home.

It's a busy night. Service is bordering on horrible. We can wait, though. Martin looks pensive. Something's eating him, but I ignore it. I learned over time that you never give him help if he doesn't ask for it. Otherwise, you just feed his angst. I then try to talk to Geneva about migrating to Germany after five years, but she wanted none of it.

As soon as I stopped talking, Geneva quickly changed topics, and was now giddily talking about work. McCann is lucky to have someone like her. Beautiful, affable, and lovable. I've been a patient man, and she is well worth it.

Geneva smiles at me. Her fingers linger gingerly across my palm.

"Are you all right, Paul?

I smile back and nod silently. She presses her hand on mine. I take an innocuous glance across the table, and silently wish he'd go away.

.:Two's Company:.

Paul is such a darling. He finally gave his silly talk a rest. Must remind him I'm not too fond of leaving the Philippines. Was getting slightly miffed over it. The odd scent of burning dimsum emanating from the kitchen aggravates my impatience with the inane topic.

It's not like one is already committed. He forgets we're not yet together. Geneva Cortez is a budding legend in the industry. Migration would shatter everything. For him to expect me to leave all this for him is absurd.

Paul's far from perfect, but he's special. Casual ribbing is disturbing him. I smile at him, then hold his hand. He must be so disappointed...

But he's safe. Maybe it can work. Maybe I'll even fall in love. Maybe I already have.

"Ahem."

I look across the table and realize that I completely forgot about Martin. Poor guy.

He must be famished.

.:One's Misery:.

I was glad Paul and Geneva were amenable to this, despite the inconveniences. I love Chinese food. Warm, inviting, sumptuous. Chinese food is the comfort food, in my book. It's been a long day, and dinner would do me wonders.

Across me, they talk about migrating to Germany. Do I really have to hear this? I'm starving...

"Fine. Let's change topics."

Thank you, Paul. He looked sad when Geneva winced at the mention of migration. Geneva shifts gears, and Paul looks at her with utmost interest. If they came any closer, they'd fog up their glasses. I'm feeling out of place. I need food...

I set myself up for this. I went here with Geneva, knowing full well that Paul would take her home afterwards. Good. I don't have a car, much less the will to take her all the way to Cavite from Ortigas. Still, I feel a bit guilty that her so-called best friend hasn't been doing his job lately. But a friend would be of more use on a full stomach...

There was a moment of uneasy silence, before Geneva turned to Pauil and asked him how he was holding up. She then holds his hand in hers, and they look smilingly into each other's eyes. I feel a lump in my throat, and I try with much futility to swallow it.

Now, I'm hungry.