It’s the second day of the Kidlat Awards in Boracay. And for the second day, it’s raining. The sun comes out, a brief decoy of hope, and then the clouds move in. The beach looks inviting, nevertheless, and I look enviously at people who remembered to bring jackets, because the wind is chilly and damp. …
Because of you, the building powers-that-be cancelled this morning’s fire drill. No longer will we be mustered away from the comfort of our cubicles, instructed to briskly walk down twenty flights of stairs and herded shivering and whining out into the wet streets while fire trucks answer theoretical alarms and firemen rescue imaginary victims.
the rain sheeting, careening crazy down the windshield. A splitsecond later, as the car moves forward, the ears receive the bounty of sound, the pitter too soon after the patter. I imagine slow rain to have vowels like long e and long i, but a monsoon downpour does away with all the vowels, and insists …