I spent weeks trying to figure out the password to an email account that I had set up two years ago. It was an account especially created for all work-related top-secret files that my colleagues and I kept back then. I was the only one who knew the password. And none of my neurons could remember it. The only thing I was sure of: my password is usually the name of someone I love — Nicole Kidman, Francois Truffaut, Christian Bale, Miroslav Klose…

A password-resetting email was sent to my secondary email address. The problem was, it was already inactive. So I was forced to answer a security question:

What is your pet’s name?

Silly me. I never had a pet. Ever. Damn. I don’t know why I chose this security question in the first place. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

For many nights, I tried to come up with pet names that I might have possibly used as my password. None worked. It was only minutes ago when, out of utter frustration, I typed in “YOSHKE.”

Bingo. It opened. So much for being a UP graduate, cum laude.

I immediately rummaged through my mailbox and found the file I was looking for. Downloaded it. Opened it. But to my surprise, another “Enter password” bullshit popped up. Not again, I thought.

And then, you crossed my mind. Just like that. You crossed my mind. Reluctantly, I typed in something — your name. My fingers spelled it correctly. Yep, the file opened.

Good thing I thought of you first.

Right now, my fingers are still stammering your name. They used to shout it out loud. Two years ago.

I’ve had many passwords after you.

.

.

Now I wish I hadn’t remembered the second password.

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