queenofeuphoria

Joni walks past the log where they used to sit before he left- on that wretched plane; with no good-byes; too soon. She tugs on her loose, black shirt as though willing it to carry her away from there; to give her the strength to leave. Her foot pauses; hesitates as she steps forward, moving farther from the island of rotting wood and off to her next class. In the classroom, the professor discusses mathematics on the black board,gesturing to meaningless figures that supposedly define the universe- Tick, tock, Tick, tock... goes the clock. All she hears are Luke's words as she sat with him for (what she hadn't then known would be) t

“An E-love-ator Story” I am an elevator. I see a lot of things, but seldom do any of them really matter to me. In fact, everyday that passes by is, for me, almost indiscriminate from the last. My day stars when the old, balding man in blue comes to wake me up at exactly 0:6:00. I then slide down to the ground floor and wait as the lights turn on throughout the building. One of my walls is made completely of glass and has an astounding view of Taft Avenue. I watch the sunrise through that wall as I wait for people to arrive. I like feeling the gentle light as it filters through my wall-length-window. It warms the chill from the a

Everything In Transit Oliver sits on the old, rickety bus at exactly 6:30 am every morning, from Monday to Friday. He gets to Makati at 6:15; his mother drops him off at the unloading point at Ayala Avenue on her way to work from their home in Las Pinas. From there, he walks down the street, into the underpass, and up the next street, to the stop where he awaits the bus. As he enters the underpass, which smells strangely enough, of rotting cabbage, he turns his I-Pod on. More often than not, it is right at the M section, which means he usually catches songs by artists like Metro Station (rather fitting, he thought), Maroon 5 or Megadeth.