Young Underpaid Professionals

FICTION posted by Rio

I love you, said the SMS. My heart would have gone haywire right there and then, but I bit my lip and replied, “WTF. Wrong send, dude.”

“Ooooops! I’m sorry!” you quickly texted back.

I had been writing when my phone beeped, and when I turned back to what I was doing, I suddenly had a numbing feeling. “Fuck,” I spat at the half filled page.

I fumbled with my cigarette case. I stared at my half finished work as smoke swirled in front of the monitor and I reminded myself of my deadlines. Maybe I should start turning off my phone when I’m working. By the time I finished two cigarettes, I decided that it was hopeless. Both my assignment for the day and you.
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FICTION posted by Rio

Alam mo, naka mahigit sampung ulit na ata ako sa pagsusulat nito. Dun sa isang sulat, namutaktak ng salitang tanga. Dun naman sa isa, puro bwiset.

Bakit nga ba kita naisipang sulatan? Naalala lang kita at naisip kong marami-rami na rin akong naipong mga sasabihin sa’yo. At dahil hinding-hindi mo ‘to maririnig sa kin out loud, idadaan ko na lang sa sulat na walang address.

Tapang no? Pagdating sa mga bagay na to, duwag din ako no. Nagawa ko na naman dati ang emotional suicide at dahil alam kong di masaya yun–kung maiiwasan–iiwasan ko na talaga. Kaya eto, sisimulan at tatapusin ko na tong katangahang ito sa sulat na to.

Alam mo, pag naiisip kita at emotional suicide sa iisang sentence, natatawa ako. Kasi naman, para akong nabudol budol. Nananahimik ako (malamang, ikaw din), tapos boom! Napagtripan nanaman ako ni Miss Cosmos. Hindi ko alam kung pano at kung kelan nangyari, pero andun yung matinding feeling na ninakawan mo ako. Isama mo na din yung feeling na ang tanga-tanga ko. Read the rest of this entry »

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FICTION posted by Rica

How does he do it?

When I look him in the eyes, he glances right through me and walks past me, suddenly disappearing in the crowd. And when I chance upon him in the train heading home, he’s taking in all of me, and I see his lips curl at both ends upward, a sign of amusement or bewilderment flashing across his homely face.

And when I get off the bus I see him in the corner of my eye, hiding behind another passenger. When I finally turn around to see if my mind’s playing tricks on me again, his amused face is nowhere to be seen.

I think I should get my eyes checked this time.

They talk about him through the walls of my tiny office, too. Cubicles housing drones seem to be talking nonstop all nine hours of my workday, and I can’t avoid my ears from catching bits and pieces of phrases and gossip jumping from one square compartment to another. Read the rest of this entry »

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FICTION posted by Rica

The lift was empty when I got in it on the ground floor. There was a lift man, but he never asked me what floor I’d be getting off.

Up, up, up. Stop.

A girl with pigtails got on when we reached the fifth floor. she turned and smiled at me, and I smiled back. She wasn’t any taller than I was but it seemed that she’d been riding the lift far longer that I’d been.

Another woman stepped inside when we got to the seventh floor. She had a small bun on top of her head, and had glasses, and wore high-heeled leather shoes. She only looked at either of us girls once when she stepped in, and never bothered to nod the lift man’s way. Read the rest of this entry »

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FICTION posted by Rio S.

Dear Sam,

It sure has been a while. Thanks for sending your coffee blend, by the way; Fran says thanks too. We’re still wondering whatever it is you put in there. Honestly, I can safely say we’re quite addicted to Samantha’s Personal Coffee Blend.

How have you been honey? I’ve been busy with work and family stuff the past couple of months and I’m sorry for not writing as often. I know I haven’t called that many times either but I know you’d understand. Fran and I got your package yesterday. I tried to call you, but all I got was that automated voice. In German. Course, I had no idea what it was saying; I just assumed you’d forgotten to charge your phone again. I tried calling many times and still that voice answered, so here I am writing you an email instead.

Mom says to thank you. The curtains you sent to the house were “just darling,” she said. She’s been nagging me to write you more often, but I was really busy you see. Read the rest of this entry »

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FICTION posted by Rica

Her hands didn’t feel like her own; she had been staring at them since this morning. She couldn’t help but be amazed at how her hands had cooked a wonderful breakfast for her and her lover, how they had washed the dishes afterwards, and how they had done even the most trivial of chores around the house. She had never enjoyed doing those before with her own hands.

Those hands, she thought they were wonderful!

It could’ve lasted all day, her amusement; but slowly she realized that the hands were not like the ones she had been keeping clean. These hands were different. They were bruised, the nails were bitten short, both pinkies looked like they were sewn back on the hands, and they looked really worn.

This isn’t a Stephen King novel, she kept telling herself when she realized the hands were not hers. Read the rest of this entry »

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FICTION posted by Rio S.

The door chimes sounded softly. The shopkeeper looked up from her ledger and watched as the man peeked warily into the store.

“May I help you, sir?” she asked tentatively. Many people looked into her store but never bought anything. She smiled at the thought. She doubted those people would be willing to pay the price for her wares.

The man did not appear to have heard her. “Sir?”

He clutched at his heart. He thought the store was empty. Aside from the Open sign at the door, the shop did not indicate any sort of activity; it looked out of place in between a shoe store and a mini-mart. He looked at the lady behind the counter and blurted out, “You surprised me.”

“My apologies.” She smiled at him. She knew a sale when she saw one. “How may I be of assistance?” Read the rest of this entry »

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