By: Iris P. Concepcion
A woman, one time, decided to go out of her way to deliver something that had been in the woodwork for five years. It is her purpose, the reason why he gets pelted by screaming people. She had walked under some heat that had tested her patience. It did not ruffle her except for some pluses on her expletive ammunition.
She usually wakes up with nary a care on what could happen; for as long as her words had been pressed there, for THAT reason, she continues to tread, like a contented snail circling in her small shell saying provocatively the emotive, perfect, spectacular : SHUT UP.
I wonder how snails sound when they utter that.
So that the universe shall know, it is the company that lends meaning to food, the very meaning why this woman still walks unabated in spirit, with words popping out of her mind, thinking of her new masterpiece, but still for that one reason.