THE weather took a hard turn the moment I climbed into the seat. Despite its inconvenience, it still seemed to be perfectly-timed.
On days like these, my favorite way to pass time is to observe the raindrops cutting tracks down the window pane. Silently, I wonder which one of them would reach the bottom first. In this moment, I am back to being the same ten year old child I once was.
I continued to observe the racing raindrops until I caught sight of a face—my own reflection. I took notice of my features, tucked a few stray hairs behind my ear and even smiled at it in brazen admiration.
As the weather grew frantic, the little drops began to collide with one another until it coalesced into larger ones. Soon enough, frenetic drops were everywhere. My reflection turned into nothing but a blurry swirl of fluid, to the point that it became unrecognizable—that I became unrecognizable.
That was when I finally saw past my reflection, moving on to the things taking place behind the bleary window. Even with the gloom hanging midair, life was aflame and burning brightly. It was evident on the people I passed by. Their stories seemed to unfurl itself as I watch them in their own worlds.
It was fleeting but it was enough to make me realize the things I have always failed to see; that there was more to life than myself and my own bubble of self-absorption. F MHERYLL GIFFEN L. ALFORTE
