It was love at first sight.
He was sleeping; she was unmindful. He suddenly lifted his head up and she saw that he was handsome with his beautiful, sleepy eyes and a fashion that rocks—black polo, folded-at-the-edge pants and Chuck Taylor pair. He probably noticed her, too, as he didn’t sleep anymore since.
She paid. SM po. He paid. SM.
When they reached the latter, she quickly took another jeepney. He seemed to follow her and rode the same.
She paid. He stretched his arm to reach her. It was one, two, three seconds of touching each other’s fingers. His middle, index, and thumb. Hers, too. Then she thought, she could have handed him a calling card or a piece of paper with her number on it at the same time that she handed him her fare to be handed over to the driver. But it only happens in the movies.
Para po. She made a last look at him but he wasn’t looking. She alighted the vehicle and the story ended.
Or not. Malay mo. Bilog ang mundo—the jeepney radio played.
(written 16 sep 2007)
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