My rubber shoes are soaked with rain. My hungry stomach is now in pain. I was drowned in the sea of noise made of my schoolmates’ giggles and words shared with their friends and parents as well as the sound of the car tires against the water-kissed road.
The sun’s about to be eaten by the night sky but I promised to my once present father that I won’t ever cry.
So with my head bowed down, I repeat the chant my mind’s uttering for almost four hours now: “Mommy said she will come for me. Mommy said she will…”