FICTION Posted by Rica
Seeing Taal makes her remember Romy Diaz in his contrabida roles, wearing a robe, so early in the goddang morning.
Puffing. Smoke.
Everything’s hazy again.
Must be fog.
She’s sure it’s not smog. She doesn’t want to go back to the city.
For now.
She sees lines – or waves. Or wavy lines. Or…
She’s not thinking straight.
Again.
And again.
Her eyes feel heavy so early in the morning.
No, she’s not tired.
Not yet.
It’s just dawn, and she’s looking at the lake.
“Oh”, she says, as she wipes her tears away.
Again. And again.
