flash shots, friday.

The keyboard might as well crack with the pressure it gets, as almost every key seems to be pressed at the same time with the speed of my fingers. “Fuck you, bitch! Can’t you freaking see that I’m finishing a paper!” But it was imagined. Instead, I picked up the book lying on the floor and slapped it against her face. Don’t worry. It was softbound and I just imagined that as well. 

I was on my third page and the bitch still went on, and on – even joked about her friend’s fave sex position according to a Facebook app. How mature. 

On top of the monitor was Cut, a short story for children. It was insulting me. I can’t seem to analyze a short story, made for kids, about a haircut. It was because “Chona bent and whispered something in Mika’s ear: ‘The good thing about hair is that you never lose it. It just grows back.’ And it did.” And this Chona is gay, and Mika’s mother is, obviously, not. Long hair is usually for women, and Chona wore a wig. Mika’s mother didn’t want her to even have a trim, but her Lola said Chona can, and so this Chona did. Mika’s mom saw it, got mad, and gave Mika the haircut of her life. What should that mean?

“Carlos, I don’t know how to do a Marxist Feminist!” Then he replied, “Spivak!” I tried to remember. Yes, Spivak. But wait! I’m using Sara Mills. Scratch Spivak, scratch.

***

The heat was too much. I was sweating. I have to change into something comfortable. Mixed with books and notebooks, paper and all, was a shirt. Thank God, I have a shirt. I ran to the comfort room to change, but wait, where are my books? And so I ran towards a different direction.

I left it. Great. And so I ran faster, crossed buildings, tapped Ben’s back instead because I can’t afford to stop and say ‘hi’. 

It was still there. I can’t afford to lose those books because a week worth of allowance won’t be able to pay for it. It was still there, picked it up, and ran back. I saw you by the steps, reading a paper. I chose not to stop. It was still there. Wait, is it?

***

I tried to open the door. “Ha? Bakit?!” Someone called. It was Patrick. The door was locked. “Ikaw nalang hinihintay.” Nervous, I said, “Teka, eto na.” And ended the call. The door was already locked.

I dialed. “Hello, Pat. Teka lang. Papunta na akong DLRC. Sabihin mo teka lang.” He was too impatient and gave the phone to someone else. “Hello? Teka lang.” I was told to hurry up. 

It was already dark inside. “Sorry, sarado na,” the guy said. I begged, “please.” “Wala na, patay na lahat ng computer.” It was my cue to turn my back.

I was almost running. But because of books and my bulky bag, I wasn’t running. I leaped over steps. AS was pretty high at that point. 

“Hello? Papunta akong Pop I. Wala na sa DLRC eh.” I went down immediately when I heard, “Sarado na yan kanina pa.” “Teka. Pabantay nung department. Saan ba kayo?” “Sa Gal.” I sounded unfamiliar, “Ah okay.”

I ran to FC. “Oh ayan na pala si Marc,” Patrick said. “Teka, wala pa.”

***

Panting and breathy, I asked, “pwede po ba magpa-print? Kahit bayaran ko nalang po. Ma-i-incomplete po kasi ako eh.” She looked puzzled, “Ha? ha? Ano yun?!” The glass was getting misty, “Magpapa-print po. Ma-i-incomplete na po kasi ako.” Finally, she said yes.

I handed her my flash drive. She was taking too much time. She had to call me because she couldn’t find my file. A few scrolls, and she clicked print.

“Magkano po babayaran ko?” I was asked more relaxed. “’Wag na. Major ka ba?” I answered yes. She handed me my paper. “Ate, thank you po. Thank you, thank you po.” I had to hide my paper. Behind me was my thesis adviser. I lost track of the position she now holds, nevertheless she’s my thesis adviser. 

And with a wrist flick, I was out of the department.