“Manglibre ka, ron, te? (Will you treat us out, te?)” Virhenia asked.
“It’s not my birthday! But let’s eat out!” It’s thirty past midnight. I told Jo, Judy, Ellen, and Sachi to go ahead because I had to drop by my place to get the camera. When the cab was about to pull over, I remembered I left the memory card at work. After getting the camera, Virhenia and I had to go back to the office to get it.
Suncooler Big | P147.32 (Good for five)
They already ordered for us since we arrived late. While waiting for our food, I pulled out Mary Oliver’s Red Bird from my tote.
“Do you like this kind of books, te?” Ellen asked while skimming through the pages.
“Yes, ga.” I smiled. When the heart is apprehensive, it finds solace in poetry.
“Read this one,” I said while turning the page to 22. She read it aloud.
“How was it?”
“I couldn’t understand it.” I tried explaining to her, but I stopped half-way because poetry is not supposed to be explained. It has to be felt.
“Yours looked tasty, te,” Ellen declared. I ordered pork belly in our first dine in the restaurant.
“I’m reluctant to try new dishes, ga,” I admitted. Especially if I have to pay for it. Although I consider myself a risk-taker, it doesn’t completely apply to food. It will be a waste if I ended up not liking it. Jo shares the same principle in eating.
Ellen didn’t like her mozzarellaed chicken. The fatty part of my pork belly made me giddy in a bad way. But Jo and Ellen loved it.
These girls were very supportive. Instead of having our usual midnight bout of fast food, they went out of their way to spend a decent dinner with me.
I could sniff March in the air, yet Moon Cafe still valentined the place with a sickle-like moon and colorful hearts. Most of the diners though are not couples but group of friends or coworkers in search of good beer and food.
One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own