So you’re working now…
What was your job again?
A writer. In some college.
Bet you have to work late… is it a stressful job?
Well, every job has its own ups and downs, but it’s just a job.
Must be tough for someone like you, a newcomer then. Big bullies the small…
Not at all. They’re willing to teach me and I learn. It’s good.
Drive to work?
Is the pay enough?
There is a voice in my head that tells me to turn over to this elderly woman with my set of questions, in return of her kindness to ask. But I never realized how long has it been since we actually talked, and how I’ve been selfishly fighting against this self-pride just to ask her a simple ‘how are you’ question. It’s that easy. Just turn over and let your mouth do the talking as it would. Yet I couldn’t.
It’s been years and I still couldn’t bring myself to speak to her. Is there still time left? Then I guess I’ll carry this regret until we meet again. Happy birthday, po po. I’ll remember to smile the next time we speak again.