by MARIA ALTHEA V. JAVIER
SOMEBODY ASKED me if I could sign their uniform as we half-listened to the Father’s sermons. It was a rather lighthearted request, but a compromised nod was all I could give.
As candles lit up the field I once cursed the sun out loud in, I knew there was a sudden shift in the air.
One by one, we took center stage as the quiet witnesses of the establishment sang through the night. As the solemn gathering commenced, we sought the baroque posts and everything else beyond it.
Amid what seemed like the longest walk of my life, I cheered briefly, the loud streams of joy keeping me occupied.
In a swift motion, I swerved quickly as I completed a passage of joy and dread, and looked back towards the lane where lovers once loomed.
With the stars settling in the dark sky, the smell of vehicle smoke intensifying dread, the lights across the busy streets of España illuminating shabby sidewalks, I sank into the irreversible I refuse to come to terms with.
It was all smiles in that crowded portion of the arch. It was high-pitched voices talking about what they wanted to come home to.
They all retreated back to their original groups while I remained stuck like a post amid a fateful summer evening.
“Huy tara na! May makikita ka pang multo diyan!”
“‘Wag naman! Uuwi pa ako sa probinsya!” I exclaimed, as if I was scared.
I think they had ideas of what truly terrified me. F