Mindsoup

Manong, wag!

Brain dead at about 9.30 last night, I heard a short scream from a girl sitting behind me on a bus. A tallish man in a blue shirt and a cap bolted down the bus as it came to a sudden stop. I looked around in confusion and found the other passengers doing the same, trying to figure out what happened within the five seconds at the start of the scream to the blur of a body jumping off in a rush.

A busybody asked the girl—what happened? Cellphone stolen. What model? 6600. Good thing he didn't have a weapon with him. "I have a cut," she says.

That line, no one seemed to hear. The busybody (a guy) sitting in front of me was regaling the other passengers about how the same thing happened last week, and how he wanted to tell people to keep their phones in their pockets because he knew it would happen, he was, and he would've grabbed the isnatser if there were more men in the vehicle (there was three, includng him). He asked me if I was also using my cellphone that time and I just gave him a tight smile, no. See, I was too tired to.

He went on. It was pretty annoying, and half of his story may simply be a lie. It was annoying but quite comforting. I know it was just a cellphone and it was just a cut, but I suddenly felt very mortal. And alone. The wind was blowing on my face and the night was a little humid so during the bus ride, i took my jacket off. Five minutes after the five-second incident, I surreptitiously wore it again and held on to the irritating voice of the busybody-tall storyteller.