[It was a cool August night, and a rare chance to take a holiday. But instead of being stuck in my bedroom, I pretended to be a doctor that day, inviting resident doctors to a seminar.
But there are other stories that day... about plans for the future, with donuts and black coffee. About nothing, but going up. And there's this]
Yellow lights glimmer like fireflies in midnight. The city is still awake, while its inhabitants are about to sleep. In the midst of fewer vehicles, walking paces and fluorescent convenient stores, there are two souls sighing their declarations of love and consummation of lust.
There are two pairs of eyes, looking at the city below and enjoying its view.
Two lips entwined, in I love you's and suppressed moans. Two pairs of hands, touching and owning one another. Two souls thrusting and celebrating a little piece of heaven - that their little bubble has created and contained.
Such is the language of admiration and affirmation; that no matter how noisy the city is at night, these two jejemons, or so-called batang-hamog, enjoy the luxury of being on top of the world, having their little solace and peace.
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