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NAME: SHERLYN C. TIBAY                             DATE: September 14, 2022

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"Joke ra man unta to. Pero iyaha mang giseryoso." or in English, "It was just a mere joke, but he took it seriously." One hot afternoon, the group of English majors was busy doing a biographical analysis with their respective groups. And I was that person in the group who was cramming editing the presentation I made last night. Control C, control V, move here and there, insert this and that, and delete the unnecessary parts; these were all I did for the allotted time. My heart was racing, but nobody knew. They should not, of course. I focused on the monitor with Benry and Rhea on each side doing the analysis. Now, the time was over. I could hear the tip-tap of our ma'am Love's shoe heading to our room. "This is it," I muttered. "You, Rhea, can you report this?" I said to Rhea, who sat on my right side, skimming on our answers. She pouted and turned to me. "Okay, Benry, it's your time to shine." She laughed and passed it back to me. We kept passing and passing the role, but, in the end, it was still me. I stood at the front with all my might. I projected my presentation confidently with my Canva-made ppt. I could hear my classmates sound impressed, not with the content but because of the animation and the other elements in my Canva-made ppt. After my presentation, they asked the five W and H about my premium account. Since I am not that selfish, I shared to them my secret.

At night, I tried to remember the name of my Canva provider. I dug deep into my hippocampus, but I found no answer. The morning came, and I had not contacted the provider yet. I proceeded to my morning job. After setting the meal, I got back to my custom–doing requirements. Later that afternoon, I brought santol to our class, just for a chill while waiting for the other classmates. After a few minutes, Britney arrived, and the Canva-topic was served back. I went to my messenger, scrolling down and down, hoping to find the name of that Canva-guy. Unexpectedly, I spotted him and immediately sent a message, "Sir..." I did not finish the line because our class was starting. My intent for that message was for him to notice, but he responded with a flood of fragmented-sentence. My conscience knocked, and I could not just ignore it. So, I opened my data and replied, "Sir, I will get back to you later. I am in my class." Then he responded, "Se ne ol binabalikan."

The whole class was a bit exhausting. And it even left an overwhelming atmosphere in my heart. But I was comforted by the promise that our teacher gave. I had no other class that day, so I walked alone down the lonely ramps. When I got home, the healthy and delicious victuals welcomed me that my home lady prepared. It was a savoring soup, delightful to the eye, delectable to the tongue, and food for the soul; a fish Tufo and seaweed soup with cream of mushroom. I spent my night doing the assignment as usual. But that night, I got to bed so early— that was unusual! It was Wednesday, and after doing my morning routine, I opened my laptop in my room. I suddenly remembered the Canva-provider that prompted me to grab my phone to message him. We discussed business matters at first. It was supposed to be just only about business— only business. But soon later, flattering words entered the scene.

I was not that mindful of my replies: I responded as if chatting with my boy best friends here on campus. But it turned out the other way around. We exchanged a few more personal chats. And I tried to sound natural with no flowering lines. I thought it was just a joke when he said, "i-ma mine na kaya kita." And I just responded casually: "in God's will." I didn't want to sound offending. I just played along with the jam, not knowing that the other end was taking my drama seriously. Later at lunch, he told me, "I was praying this morning, then parang ikaw ang sagot." And now, I still can't process how fast is fast.