LS Reg #009, Series of 2005

Love may be beautiful, Love may be bliss
but I only slept with you, because I was pissed

I thought that I could love no other
Until, that is, I met your brother

Roses are red, violets are blue,
sugar is sweet, and so are you.

But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead,
the sugar bowl's empty and so is your head.

Of loving beauty you float with grace
If only you could hide your face

Kind, intelligent, loving, and hot
This describes everything you are not!!!

I want to feel your sweet embrace
But don't take that paper bag off of your face

I love your smile, your face, and your eyes-
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!!!

My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you screwed up the rest of my life

I see your face when I am dreaming
That's why I always wake up screaming

My love you take my breath away
What have you stepped in to smell this way

My feelings for you no words can tell
Except for maybe "go to hell"

What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime .


-Author prefers anonymity, lest he be massacred by feminists worldwide.

Wait For Me

Darling did you know that I, I dream about you,
Waiting for the look in your eyes when we meet for the first time
And Darling did you know that I, I pray about you,
Praying that you will hold on
Keep your loving eyes only for me.

Because I am waiting for, praying for you, Darling
Wait for me too, wait for me as I wait for you
Because I am waiting for, praying for you, Darling
Wait for me too, wait for me as I wait for you.

Darling did you know I dream about life together
Knowing you will be forever.
I'll be yours and you'll be mine.
And Darling when I say, "till death do us part",
I'll mean it with all of my heart,
now and always faithful to you.


Now I know you may have made mistakes,
But there's forgiveness and a second chance.
So wait for me,
Darling wait for me, wait for me, wait for me.


Wait for me, Darling wait
Because im waiting for you,
Because im waiting for you
So wait for me,
Darling wait,
Wait for me.

rebecca st. james

the science of our solitude

Hope, which whispered from Pandora's box only after all the other plagues and sorrows had escaped, is the best and last of all things. Without it, there is only time. And time pushes at our backs like a centrifuge, forcing us outward and away, until it nudges us into oblivion. It's a law of motion, a fact of physics, no different from the stages of white dwarfs and red giants. Like all things in the universe, we are destined from birth to diverge. Time is simply the yardstick of our separation. If we are particles in a sea of distance, exploded from an original whole, then there is a science to our solitude. We are lonely in proportion to our years.

-the rule of four

LS Reg #008, Series of 2005

9PM.

I’ve been sitting here for 12hours.

I want to go home.

But not yet.

Not now.

Why am I here?

Why did I choose this?

Wait.

Come to think of it… I didn’t.

It was in the job description.

Oh well.

Don’t come out.

Don’t let me see you.

I only got one shot.

Please don’t come out.

I can’t miss.

I won’t miss.

So please… stay where you are.

No.

Don’t get up.

Don’t go to the window.

Don’t open that… damn it…

Please get out of my sight…

Please go somewhere I can’t see you.

Please don’t open the window.

Please.

Don’t look up.

Please don’t look at me.

Go away.

Go.

Away.

Why?

Why does it have to be like this?

Why do you have to be the enemy?

It's not fair...

Please.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

Please…


Goodbye...

I love you…

LS Reg #007, Series of 2005

“Gcng k p… üü?”

Di mo ineexpect ang text na yun. Magha-hatinggabi na. Nananahimik kang nanunuod ng TV sa sala nang biglang marinig mo ang “Master, I have mail for you…” na tone ng cellphone mo (tru-tones ‘to pre… hi-tech na cellphone).

Natigilan ka kasi unidentified yung number ng sender. “Sino kayang kumag ang mangi-inis ng ganitong oras?” naisip mo nang may halong inis at tuwa (dahil may nakaalala sa’yo). Idinial mo yung number. Narinig mo ang ringback nyang ubod ng baduy, sabay pindot ng end button. “Bumawi ka, leche ka…”, panakot mong inisip.

Nag-ring ang cellphone mo. Saglit lang. “1 Missed Call”, sabi sa screen mo. Nag-return call ka. Saglit din lang.

Bumawi siya. Sa asar mo siguro, nagpilitan kang gumastos ng piso sa text.

“Cno 2?!?”

“Ang sungit m nman… :-( “

Naalala mo yung araw kahapon. Nasa klase ka, 2nd period mo. Nakaupo ka lang at nagbabasa ng notes mo nang bigla siya dumating. Si Tin. Nakasuot siya ng damit na akala mong babagay lang sa mga mannequin na nakatayo sa mga tindahang nadadaanan mo sa SM. Nakalugay ang buhok niya, kumukumpas sa bawat galaw ng kanyang katawan. May hawak siyang pink na panyo sa kanyang marikit na kamay. Dumaan siya sa harapan mo at dumiretso sa kanyang upuan. Matapos ibaba ang kanyang mga dalang libro, tumuloy siya sa isang grupo ng mga babae at nakihalubilo sa mga ito. Narinig mo ang kanyang pagtawa. Parang isang matamis na sipol ng hanging dumadaloy sa mga dahon ng bulaklak sa hardin. Naisip mo… “Ang tunog ng pangalan ko sa mga labi niya…”, na malamang ay hinding hindi mo maririnig kahit kailan.

Natapos ang 2nd period at nakaupo ka parin habang pinagmamasdan ang kanyang likod… ang kanyang leeg… ang kanyang mga hikaw na parang mga mumunting diamanteng tumutulo sa tuwing ikaw ay umiiyak. Habang pinagmamasdan mo siya, parang napapaluha ka dahil sa mala-perpektong pagkagawa sa kanya ng Diyos. “Pinagpaguran ka siguro ng Lord…”, naisip mo.

Nag 2nd bell na. Tumayo siya’t umalis ng classroom para puntahan ang kanyang susunod na klase. Habang nakaupo ka, nakaramdam ka ng pagkahalong lungkot at pagkasabik… lungkot dahil wala na siya sa paningin mo, at pagkasabik dahil sa pag-asang makikita mo siya ulit kinabukasan. Napahinga ka ng malalim, tumayo at tumungo sa pinto. Nang mapatingin ka sa kanyang dating kinauupuan, may napansin ka. May naiwang panyo sa upuan. Ang kanyang panyong kulay pink na maayos na nakatiklop.

Hindi ka natuwa.

Hindi ka namangha.

Lumakas ang tibok ng puso mo.

Bumilis ang paghinga.

Lumingon ka sa lahat ng direksyon para makita kung may ibang nagmamay-ari ng panyong ito. Inabangan mong bumalik si Tin para knin ang naiwang panyo. Limang minuto ang lumipas…sampung minuto…walang Tin na bumalik.

Nanginginig ang iyong mga daliri nang pulutin mo ang panyo, at parang isang di namalayang galaw, iniangat mo ito at nilanghap ang amoy ng tela… “Si Tin nga… kay Tin nga ito….”.

“Anjan k p…?”

Biglang nalipat ang isip mo sa isang katatanggap na text galing sa parahong taong bumulabog sa’yo.

“Cno k? Ano kelangn m?”

“Nangungmsta lng…klala m ko, d m lng ako npapancn…”

“I nid names, nt details.”

“Bk kc mgalt k lng pg nlaman m kng cno tlg ako…”

“Bhla k.”

Medyo napipikon ka na sa kakulitan ng taong ito. Nawalan ka na ng ganang manuod ng TV kaya pinatay mo na ito at umakyat sa kuwarto mo. Humiga ka sa kama at nag-isip kung ano ang pwedeng gawin kinabukasan. “Buti nalang at walang pasok bukas…”, naisip mo habng unti-unting napipikit ang mata mo sa antok.

“Glit k b? m sowee :-( “

“Nakhumputsa naman,…”, naisumbat mo sa inis.

“Look, ano b kelangn m? Gbi n a!”

“I hav sumthin 2 ask… mlakng bgy ung hhlingin ko sau… jz tel me kng ayw m…il undrstnd…”

“Ano un?”

“Cn u mit with me 2mrw?”

“What?”

“Dnt wori, lyk I sed, klala m ko. I jz wnt 2 ttalk wth u abt sumthin…kng ayw m, k lng…”

Sa inis mo, naisip mong sakyang ang hinihingi ng taong ito. “Iindyanin ko nalang. Bakit, sino ba kasi siya?”, pagpaplanong isip mo.

“Fyn. Wer n when?”

“Lets mit at SM nlang, il w8 4 u at koffia, k lng…?”

“Very well.”

“And 1 mor thing…”

“Ano nnman un?”

“Pls bring my handkerchief… :-) “

LS Reg #006, Series of 2005

The Beach

Moon shines.
Stars fall.
Waves Crash.
The setting was perfect. The timing could not be better.
Yet inside my head a battle was raging. For what reason I don’t know, and for what purpose I can’t see.
Fire burns.
Music flows.
Water drizzles.
Nothing could spoil the beauty of the moment.
The moment.
The moment was exquisite. Emotion unfathomable. Beauty unquestionable.
There she walks on the sand, leaving footprints erased by the visiting surf.
There her hair flows with the wind.
What could not be better than this night?
Then again, what could be?
A deep breath, a wandering eye.
A surge of emotion burning mind and body.
She walks. She looks back.

“Pare…she’s waiting for you…”

“I know.”

I turn away.

Hottah! Hottah! Summer na!

oi! san tayo? tara people! kelan tayo magkikita-kita? miss ko na kayo as in! :)

The Choice

Max Lucado

“Why do I want to do bad?” my daughter asked me, unknowingly posing a question asked by many seekers of truth. “Why do I do the thing I hate? What is this ape that gibbers within?” or, perhaps a more basic question is being asked. “If sin separates me from God, why doesn’t God separate me from sin? Why doesn’t He remove me from the option to sin?”
To answer that, let’s go to the beginning.
Let’s go to the Garden and see the seed that both blessed and cursed. Lets see why God gave man…the choice.



Behind it all was the choice. A deliberate decision. An informed move. He didn’t have to do it. But He chose to. He knew the price. He saw the implications. He was aware of the consequences.
We don’t know when he decided to do it. We can’t know. Not just because we weren’t there. Because time was not there. When did not exixst. Nor did tomorrow or yesterday or next time. For there was no time.
We don’t know when He thought about making the choice. But we do know that He made it. He didn’t have to. He chose to.
He chose to create.
“In the beginning God created…”
With one decision, history began. Existence became measurable.
Out of nothing came light.
Out of light came day.
Then came sky…and earth.
And on this earth? A mighty hand went to work.
Canyons were carved. Oceans were dug. Mountains erupted out of flatlands. Stars were flung. A universe sparkled.
Our sun became just one of millions. Our galaxy became just one of thousands. Planets invisibly tethered to suns roared through space at breakneck speeds. Stars blazed with heat that could melt our planet in seconds.
The hand behind it was mighty. He is mighty.
And with this might, He created. As naturally as a bird sings and a fish swims, He created. Just as an artist can’t not paint and a runner can’t not run, He couldn’t not create. He was the Creator. Through and through, He was the Creator. A tireless dreamer and designer.
From the pallet of the Ageless Artist came inimitable splendors. Before there was a person to see it, His creation was pregnant with wonder. Flowers didn’t just grow, they blossomed. Chicks weren’t just born; they hatched. Salmons didn’t just swim; they leaped.
Mundaneness found no home in His universe.
He must have loved it. Creators relish creating. I’m sure His commands were delightful! “Hippo, you won’t walk…you’ll waddle!” “Hyena, a bark is too plain. Let me show you how to laugh!” “Look, raccoon, I’ve made you a mask!” “Come here, giraffe, let’s stretch that neck a bit.” And on and on He went. Giving the clouds their puff. Giving the oceans their blue. Giving the trees their sway. Giving the frogs their leap and croak. The mighty wed with the creative, and creation was born.
He was mighty. He was creative.
And He was love. Even greater than His might and deeper than His creativity was one all-consuming characteristic:
Love.
Water must be wet. A fire must be hot. You can’t take the wet out of water and still have water. You can’t take the heat out of fire and still have fire.
In the same way you can’t take the love out of this One who lived before time and still have Him exist. For He was…and is…Love.
Probe deep within Him. Explore every corner. Search every angle. Love is all you find. Go to the beginning of every decision He has made and you’ll find it. Go to the end of every story He has told and you’ll see it.
Love.
No bitterness. No evil. No cruelty. Just love. Flawless love. Passionate love. Vast and pure love. He is love.
As a result, an elephant has a trunk with which to drink. A kitten has a mother from which to nurse. A bird has a nest in which to sleep. The same God who was mighty enough to carve out the canyon is tender enough to put hair on the legs of the Matterhorn Fly to keep it warm. The same force that provides symmetry to the planets guides the baby kangaroo to its mother’s pouch before the mother knows it is born.
And because of who He was, He did what He did.
He created a paradise. A sinless sanctuary. A haven before fear. A home before there was a human dweller. No time. No death. No hurt. A gift built by God for His ultimate creation. And when He was through, He knew “it was very good.”
But it wasn’t enough. His greatest work hadn’t been completed. One final masterpiece was needed before He would stop.
Look to the canyons to see the Creator’s splendor. Touch the flowers and see His delicacy. Listen to the thunder and hear His power. But gaze on this—the zenith—and witness all three…and more.
Imagine with me what may have taken place on that day.



He placed one scoop of clay upon another until a form lay lifeless on the ground.
All of the Garden’s inhabitants paused to witness the event. Hawks hovered. Giraffes stretched. Trees bowed. Butterflies paused on petals and watched.
“You will love me, nature,” God said. “I made you that way. You will obey me, universe. For you were designed to do so. You will reflect my glory, skies, for that is how you were created. But this one will be like me. This one will be able to choose.”
Creation stood in silence and gazed upon the lifeless form.
An angel spoke, “But what if he…”
“What if he chooses not to love?” the Creator finished. “Come, I will show you.”
Unbound by today, God and the angel walked into the realm of tomorrow.
‘There, see the fruit of the seed of choice, both the sweet and the bitter.”
The angel gasped at what he saw. Spontaneous love. Voluntary devotion. Chosen tenderness. Never had he seen anything like these. He felt the love of the Adams. He heard the joy of Eve and her daughters. He saw the food and the burdens shared. He absorbed the kindness and marveled at the warmth.
“Heaven has never seen such beauty, my Lord. Truly, this is your greatest creation.”
“Ah, but you’ve only seen the sweet. Now witness the bitter.”
A stench enveloped the pair. The angel turned in horror and proclaimed, “What is it?”
The Creator spoke only one word: “Selfishness.”
The angel stood speechless as they passed through centuries of repugnance. Never had he seen such filth. Rotten hearts. Ruptured promises. Forgotten loyalties. Children of the creation wandering blindly in lonely labyrinths.
“This is the result of choice?” the angel asked.
“Yes.”
“They will forget you?”
“Yes.”
“They will reject you?”
“Yes.”
“They will never come back?”
“Some will. Most won’t.”
“What will it take to make them listen?”
The Creator walked on in time, further and further into the future, until He stood by a tree. A tree that would be fashioned into a cradle. Even then He could smell the hay that would surround Him.
With another step into the future, He paused before another tree. It stood alone, a stubborn ruler of a bald hill.
The trunk was thick, and the wood was strong. Soon it would be cut. Soon it would be trimmed. Soon it would be mounted on the stony brow of another hill. And soon He would be hung on it.
He felt the wood rub against a back He did not yet wear.
“Will you go down there?” the angel asked.
“I will.”
“Is there no other way?”
“There is not.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to not plant the seed? Wouldn’t it be easier to not give the choice?”
“It would,” the Creator spoke slowly. “But to remove the choice is to remove the love.”
He looked around the hill and foresaw a scene. Three figures hung on three crosses. Arms spread. Heads fallen forward. They moaned with the wind.
Men clad in soldiers’ garb sat on the ground near the trio. They played games in the dirt and laughed.
Men clad in religion stood off to one side. They smiled. Arrogant, cocky. They had protected God, they thought, by killing this false one.
Women clad in sorrow huddled at the foot of the hill. Speechless. Faces tear streaked. Eyes downward. One put her arm around another and tried to lead her away. She wouldn’t leave. “I will stay,” she said softly. “I will stay.”
All heaven stood to fight. All nature rose to rescue. All eternity poised to protect. But the Creator gave no command.
“It must be done…,” He said, and withdrew.
But as He stepped back in time, He heard the cry that He would one day scream: ”My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?” he wrenched at tomorrow’s agony.
The angel spoke again. “It would be less painful…”
The Creator interrupted softly. “But it wouldn’t be love.”
They stepped into the Garden again. The Maker looked earnestly at the clay creation. A monsoon of love swelled up within Him. God’s form bent over the sculptured face and breathed. Dust stirred on the lips of the new one. The chest rose, cracking the red mud. The cheeks fleshened. A finger moved. And an eye opened.
But more incredible than the moving of the flesh was the stirring of the spirit. Those who could see the unseen gasped.
Perhaps it was the wind who said it first. Perhaps what the star saw that moment is what has made it blink ever since. Maybe it was left to an angel to whisper it:
“It looks like…it appears so much like…it is Him!”
The angel wasn’t speaking of the face, the features, or the body. He was looking inside—at the soul.
“It’s eternal!” gasped another.
Within the man, God had placed a divine seed. A seed of His self. The God of might had created earth’s mightiest. The Creator had created, not a creature, but another creator. And the One who had chosen to love had created one who could love in return.
Now it’s our choice.

LS Reg #005

Series of 2005

Fire erupts from deep crevices on the ground as burning embers fall down from the already darkened sky. Slight aftershocks sweep across the buildings as shockwaves emit from every corner.

The spark of steel clashing against steel. A blacksmith’s masterpiece churning up chaos and beauty at the same time. Steel against steel. Steel against flesh.

“Hiten Mitsurugi, Amakekiro Ryuno Hirameki!”

Sparks fly. Steel against flesh.

And on the floor, a petite young woman lies with blood dripping from a wound. She wears a torn kimono with her wooden sword lying broken in her hands. She silently cries as her defender draws his sword in a Battou-Jitsu fashion, known to be an equal in speed with the ancient Japanese Shikuchi. She cries with fear, that her defender might not lose his life, much more, his credo.

Change of scenario.

She springs forward, thrusting her wooden sword into the blind side of her attacker, while a red-haired man lies against the wall, bleeding and spent. His cross-shaped scar once again drawing blood as he clutches his bleeding side as if to hold on for dear life.

The sound of wind being broken with each accurately placed swing of her weapon. The Kamiya-Kasshin trademark of speed and accuracy, well-placed with each succeeding thrust.

With every leap she makes, she glances back with tearful eyes at the man she protects with her very life. She willingly places herself in danger of death to ensure the safety of this man… this beaten, weakened man.
She stands between this man and the attacker. She faces her fallen love and touches his lips with her own, this touch sealed by a drop of her tears. Then she takes her stance and closes her eyes, as the shadow of her attacker devours the remaining light that shines.

LS Reg #004

LS Reg #004
Series of 2005


Carmen! Carmen! Aalis na, isa nalang… Carmen! Carmen!

Gusto ko sanang isigaw, “Kulit mo a! ‘Sabing hindi ako si Carmen e!” Sarap sanang pang-inis yun, pero nung panahong yun di kasi ako naghahanap ng away. Gusto ko lang makarating ng Carmen sa lalong madaling oras.

“Ayos, meron pa sa gitna…”, bulong ko sa sarili ko nang papalapit ako sa van. “Ay leche…”, nang makita ko yung uupuan ko, di ko matanto kung paano magkakasya ang puwitan ko sa katiting na upuang iyon. Isipin mo, ano ang “kalahating upo”? Yung tipong isang pisngi mo lang ang nakaupo diba? E yung lagay ko, kalahating pisngi lang ang nakaupo. Nagpasalamat nalang ako sa Diyos at wala akong pigsa sa pwet nung araw na ‘yon, kung hindi siguradong makakapatay ako ng tao ng di oras.

Paalis na ang van nang ma-realize ko’ng nakalimutan kong bumili ng Diatabs™ bago pumunta sa terminal. Delikado pa man din ako dahil sari-sari yung kinain ko bago umalis ng bahay. “Ayos lang siguro, may stopover naman…” Buong P500 ang natitirang pera sa bulsa ko, wala na rin lang akong barya para pambili man lang sana ng tubig o kendi. Nakalampas na ang van sa ulo ng dakilang leon sa Kennon nang maalala ko… “Wala palang stopover ang mga van…patay…”

Camp 5… Camp 4… Camp 3… kay bilis ng takbo ng van. Pero sa lagay kong iyon, nagmimistulang araw ang lumilipas… parang nung Grade 2 ka at atat na atat kang naghihintay ng bell para sa recess. Paano naman, sa ‘kapat na upo ko (err… yun ata yung Filipino ng ¼… ewan), nakaipit ang kanang balikat ko sa pinto at nakasabit naman sa hawakan sa bubong yung kaliwang braso ko. At habang tumatakbo ang sasakyan, nakalimutan ata naming lahat na de-aircon ang van kaya lahat kami sa loob e parang mga nakakaawang piraso ng puto bumbong tuwing pasko.

“Rosario na. Isang oras nalang…”, consolasyon ko sa sarili ko. Pero bago pa man din kami nakalampas ng Rosario, naisip ng driver na i-on ang radio. Okey lang sana e, pero ganito yung kanta… “i-shoot mo, i-shoot mo, i-shoot mo na ang ball! i-shoot mo na ang ball… ang sarap mag-basketbol!” Sa gitna ng asar, pawis at ang pagpupumilit na hindi matawa sa ideyang napagtritripan ata ako ng tadhana, nagawa ko na lamang na pumikit ang humiling na makunsenysa naman sana yung driver at mag-stopover siya… kahit limang minuto lang.

Kahit na napakainit sa loob ng van, nagawa ko pang pagmasdan yung magkatipan sa tabi ko. Pati na yung aleng nakaupo sa dulo na kababaeng tao e nakabukaka ang binti. Eto namang dalawang magsyota ang sarap ng upo. Tulog pa, ‘kamo. Nakasandal yung babae sa balikat ng lalaki. Sa sarap siguro ng posisyong iyon e nakalimutan nyang may katabi siyang lalaking ‘kapat lang ang upo at nakasabit lang sa pinto. Sa bawat pagliko ng van sa kaliwa ay unti-unting natutulak ang baywang ko. Sa bawat pagliko naman sa kanan ay nakakabawi ako ng upo. Minsan pinapakapal ko na yung mukha ko at medyo ipipilit kong iurong ang aking namamanhid na puwitan para makabawi ng upuan. Kung nasa harapan mo ako at ikaw ang nakaupo sa likod, magmimistula akong gagong sumusubok na kumalong sa katabi kong babae. Di ko man naririnig, alam kong pinagtatawanan ako ng mga pasahero sa likod. Wala naman akong magawa kundi humiling ulit na magkaroon sana sila ng pigsa sa pwet at malagay sa sitwasyon ko sa susunod na pagsakay nila ng van.

“Pozorrubio…manong para!”, palambing na bigkas ng boypren ng katabi kong babae. Di ko masukat kung anong klaseng ligaya yung naramdaman ko. Parang yung tatlong salitang yun ang pinakamarikit na mga salitang narinig ko. Nang tumigil ang van, kusa kong binuksan ang pinto at bumaba ako para hindi sila mahirapang bumaba ng van. Sa totoo lang, kailangan ko na ring tumayo para dumaloy ulit yung dugo sa puwet ko. Pagbaba nila e pumasok na rin ako, at sa pag-upo ko, nilubos-lubos ko na ang sarap ng pag-upo at ibinukaka na rin ang mga binti ko na parang nagsasabing, “Walang binatbat ang Jacuzzi dito…”

Urdaneta… Villasis… isang tulay na lang at nasa Carmen na ako. Isang malalim na hinga ang ipinamalas ko nang umakyat ang van sa panghuling tulay, kumaripas ng takbo patawid at parang eroplanong bumababa habang patungo ito sa katapusan ng tulay.

Carmen.

Di man ako taga-Carmen, parang ito na ang pinakamagandang lugar para sa akin mula nang ako’y maupo sa poot ng sanlibutang van na iyon. Halos hindi ako makahintay na makababa ng sasakyan at makahanap ng jeep o tricycle nang makarating agad sa aking destinasyon.

“Teka, nauuhaw ata ako…”, naisip ko nang aking mahagilap ang init ng hangin sa Carmen. Naghanap ako agad ng tindahan, kahit sari-sari store man lang o kung susuwertehin, kahit 7-11 sana. Wala akong madatnan, unti-unting nalugmok ang loob ko. Nang makita ko ang isang gusaling habang-buhay kong maaalala… “Treats”, nabuhayan ako ng loob. Pumasok ako sa gusaling iyon at nang aking buksan ang pinto, umagos sa buong katawan ko ang malamig na simoy ng hangin ng air-con. Umikot-ikot ako sa mga paninda, hanggang sa makarating ako sa Cold Drinks na bahagi ng tindahan. Binuksan ko ang ref, kumuha ng isang bote ng malamig na inumin at dumiretso sa tindera. Tila isang matagumpay na mandirigma, ipinatong ko ang bote sa harapan ng tindera at iniabot ang natitirang P500 na perang papel sa bulsa ko.

“Boss, sorry ho, wala kaming sukli d’yan…”

Biglang nagunaw ang mundo ko.