Liyab

by ABIGAIL M. ADRIATICO My presence is known to all, long before I arrive. Each step I take leads me further away.   I like to think that they know I will come on days they least expect me to.   Yet, I could already see their scowls from a distance— expressions I am no stranger to for I am never welcome here. Their stares are cold and bitter,  wanting nothing more  than for me to leave them alone.    Should I take my rest right where they are, hoping to serve a moment of solace after their tiring days, they all come running away.   I reach for their shoulders  but my touch is too cold for them to bear. So I am cast aside, hitting the asphalt ever so quick— the soles of their shoes stepping over my

By CZERIZHA KAIZEL S. ADZUARA I remember the day I held you close underneath the mahogany trees in the park. I was grateful for the shade, for I could let go of the umbrella and finally embrace you with both of my arms. Several people were strolling. Some were with their friends, while others were with their parents. And there we were—cherishing each moment like we had the world for us and only the two of us. All of a sudden, you began to weep and squirm away from my grasp. I tried to calm you down with a lullaby, but you nagged and pointed at the slide. You always preferred to try new things over my song. I placed you gently at the crest of the slide. The beams of afternoon light illuminated you, and you were finally at ease.  I let you go and gave you a glimpse of free

Bilang ang mga araw paatras.  Sampu menos isa tuwing unang sigaw ng magtataho  o ng konduktor ng dyip sa Maynila; tuwing bagong gising ang magsasaka o ang mangingisda sa probinsya.   Marahil binibilang dahil sabik. Maaari ring may kirot sa dibdib, pumipihit ang tiyang parang kinakabag at mapipigil ng isang saglit ang hininga  kapag naalala—malapit na. Ano kaya ang bukas na dala ng balota? Oras ang makapagdidikta.   Kaya nag-aabang.  Isinalalay sa dalawang kamay ng relo ang pangyayaring hindi kailanman maikukulong ng orasan.  Pagdating ng araw,  bubuksan ang tarangkahan na hangganan  ng ngayon mula sa noon at kinabukasan at sa parehong direksyon  ay aagos ang alinman:  kalamidad o kaginhawaan. Dadapo

By ABIGAIL M. ADRIATICO   The setting sun painted the sky with a deep orange hue as Edgar walked towards the market again. He had been carrying crates filled with assorted perishable goods. Tired from work, his bones screamed for a break, yet his mind paid little attention.  Wiping the sweat from his brow, he set the crate of vegetables down in Aling Edna’s stall. He paused to stretch his aching back, but the old lady looked at him with a scowl, yelling: “May isa pa akong sako kina Martha. Dalian mo at nagmamadali sila.” Without a word, he nodded before heading back to the jeepney where a few men stood idly. One of them handed him a sack full of potatoes—far heavier than those he had been carrying all day. He struggled to hoist it on his back, but no one noticed. After

By FATIMA B. BADURIA She held the can’s handle firmly. Her eyes were fixated on the water trickling down the flower petals. Her knuckles turned pale as her nails dug in her palm.  Even in the garden, she could hear them. Inside the house, her father laughed alongside the banters from the television. Her brother cursed as sounds of gunshots emerged from his game. A sudden rush of water cascaded to her foot—the pot had overflowed.  She looked at it. A few steps back and the petal’s brown edges would not have shown, nor the flower’s slight droop. “Like a little flower,” her father once told her, pinching her then round cheeks. It was usually out of admiration if people touched them. She did so now with a pang in her chest, running her ragged, chapped hands in its wilting

By DAWN DANIELLE D. SOLANO Kevin loved watching the sun’s gradual transition from its boldest blaze of orange to its velvet tangerine hues every afternoon. He knew the perfect spot in the University where he could get a front-row view of the show. He picked a bench in front of the main building to admire the statues of two saints and the Dominican monk that framed the stretch of orange skies.  He always did this before meeting up with his best friends, Amy and Paul. The two would stroll down lover’s lane every afternoon just as much as Kevin liked his alone time. They would arrive on time, just to catch him half-awake from an afternoon nap. “Tignan mo ‘to.” He heard Amy say.  “Natutulog kung saan abutin ng antok.”  “Gising na Kevin. Gusto mo bang mahuli sa klase?” Paul t

Red brake lights set the road ablaze. Caloy shifted in the driver’s seat, he gripped the steering wheel as the long hell of a queue burned right before him.  “Eto na naman tayo,” he heaved a sigh. He stared at his bag of purchase in the passenger’s seat: a few tablets of paracetamol, vitamins, and food. Everyone’s throat in their house had been sore, their bodies lay with fatigue.  As a firstborn and the only healthy person under their roof, Caloy regularly ran errands. This made him whine and think of his unfinished works and household chores. Involuntarily, he caressed the hanging rosary in the rearview mirror.  He touched the rosary beads one by one and pondered how this looming dread seemed so familiar. How this burden— once was lifted because of possible face-to-face clas