Unfinished story #1
Things were the same when she returned to Iloilo.
Her room still got this artsy scent and an inviting atmosphere. Past issues of Reader’s Digest, untouched, piled neatly on the top of one of the Kaha de Oros. Pillows and stuffed animals hugged each other comfortably on the left edge of her bed, barely giving space to an additional hotdog pillow which she bought from Divisoria. The only change that she could see in her room was her suitcase of clothes and a big black bag of literary hand-outs and contemporary Philippine novels.
Rosemarie lazily plopped on her bed, edging out a little a stuffed dolphin. I’m finally home, she thought. She pinched herself in the arm, flinching in the second pinch. This is real; I’m not dreaming.
She stared at the ceiling for about five minutes, got up, pulled the suitcase, and opened it. Rosemarie took out all the clothes and rearranged them on her bed. She sighed. Some of her shirts were left in Tagaytay, she remembered upon seeing only a couple of white shirts resting beside pairs of of multi-colored striped socks, Avon bras, and cotton panties. No need to worry; clothes are not my top priority anyway.
(cont.)
