Early this evening I saw a smiling girl cross the street in front of my apartment.
I had just concluded a bout with the unpleasantries associated with noontime nightmares—the kind that you wake up to with your heart beating double the time that it’s normally used to. I was still shaking the cobwebs off my mind when the unwanted intrusion of her smile added to my confusion.
She wasn’t smiling at anyone in particular. She was just smiling (as if sharing a secret joke with herself).
I wanted to ask her what she’s smiling about. But normal people don’t do that. Normal people just stay where they are and let the unasked questions eat them alive.
Despite being awake for sometime I can still feel some of the nightmares lingering at the back of my head. Perhaps they were too busy to notice that I have already gone downstairs after escaping from the steel bars of my bed. The same bed that they would have me imprisoned if they had their way.
I gently shook my head—my not-so-subtle way of letting my demons know that the fun is over and that they should just try harder next time if they wish to keep me chained to their noontime schemes.
The girl was still walking calmly, unaware of my turmoil. Her smile, a perpetually supine letter C etched across her face.
It didn’t bother her that I wasn’t the only one staring at her. The security guard of the building beside my apartment has joined my watch and was smiling himself.
It didn’t bother her that the jeepneys that passed her by would honk their horns at her in jest.
As I continued to struggle with my protracted nightmare, I also had to wrestle with the question, why. Why, despite the fact that she was totally naked and wearing only high heels, was she still placidly smiling?
I decided to go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face.
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