to find two foreign men clad in military fatigue pants, plain white shirts, and black boots running to where she was. They were drenching wet and obviously ran a good distance to seek shelter, their boots covered with mud.
It was their height which she first noticed. Both were tall, but the other was almost towering, a good foot taller than his comrade, and much taller than her. She will probably only reach up to his chest if she stood next to him. They were speaking in rapid English she cannot comprehend while they card their fingers through their hair and wring the end of their shirts to squeeze some water.
Cecilia lowered her head, hoping that they will ignore her. She felt uneasy in the presence of strangers -- and men at that.
They looked at her direction and she glanced at them briefly before turning her head away again. She gulped nervously.
“Trapped in the rain?” the taller of the two asked, a friendly smile on his face.
She nodded meekly, relieved that it was a short phrase. Her knowledge on the language was limited, which was only thanks to her mother, a public school teacher, who patiently taught her and her siblings at home.
She ignored them and did not look back even if she could feel the weight of someone’s eyes on her. She was probably imagining things and she pursed her lips at the gray sky. They did not say a word to her again to her relief.
When the sky cleared and the large droplets turned into showers, she picked up her bilao basket before rushing home. As she had expected, she received an earful of scolding before going to bed.
There’s a spring in her step as she swayed the empty bilao basket in her hand. Business was good that day and she sold everything easily. She was in the public market on her way home when she stumbled upon a man.
Cecilia only came up to his chest and she noticed his tanned arms and broad shoulders before looking up, surprised to see the tall guy the other day. This time, he was wearing a moss green shirt and a holster is attached to his belt.
His eyes widened in recognition and he smiled. “Fancy seeing you again.”
Cecilia, unable to form a proper response, returned his smile. She sidestepped so she won’t block his way and was about to go when he spoke again.
“I’m Harry,” he offered his hand, which she looked at curiously. American men, usually donned in military uniforms, were not a rare sight in their area. It had been years since they established a regent in their province and most people in their place have grown accustomed to interacting with them, though the fear and intimidation never ebbed away.
But this was a first. She had never directly spoken to them, especially if her parents are around. Her parents are strict but they are more uptight when it came to her, their eldest daughter.
He retrieved his proffered hand and brought it to his nape, scratching it awkwardly. Cecilia almost felt sorry but it faded when she remembered her father’s angry face.
She bowed her head and made another attempt to go on before he talked again.
“Can I know your name?” His eyes looked hopeful. The brown orbs looked at her intently and Cecilia cannot help but blink her eyes bashfully.
“My name is Cecilia,” she said in her practiced tone. A smile bloomed in his face. Cecilia balled her hands into fists, not expecting such reaction.
“Nice to meet you, Cecilia.”
***
She combed through his ash brown hair and smiled as she listened to him talk animatedly about the game they played at school yesterday. His brown eyes twinkled as he narrated how their group won in the end, bragging how he helped achieve the win.
“I must have gotten my strength from father, didn’t I Mom?” he flexed his arms the way the men in the marketplace do jokingly and she patted his hair while chuckling.
Her smile was a bit forced but she replied in affirmative. “Yes. Your father is a strong man. He fought a lot of bad people because he loves his
It was their height which she first noticed. Both were tall, but the other was almost towering, a good foot taller than his comrade, and much taller than her. She will probably only reach up to his chest if she stood next to him. They were speaking in rapid English she cannot comprehend while they card their fingers through their hair and wring the end of their shirts to squeeze some water.
Cecilia lowered her head, hoping that they will ignore her. She felt uneasy in the presence of strangers -- and men at that.
They looked at her direction and she glanced at them briefly before turning her head away again. She gulped nervously.
“Trapped in the rain?” the taller of the two asked, a friendly smile on his face.
She nodded meekly, relieved that it was a short phrase. Her knowledge on the language was limited, which was only thanks to her mother, a public school teacher, who patiently taught her and her siblings at home.
She ignored them and did not look back even if she could feel the weight of someone’s eyes on her. She was probably imagining things and she pursed her lips at the gray sky. They did not say a word to her again to her relief.
When the sky cleared and the large droplets turned into showers, she picked up her bilao basket before rushing home. As she had expected, she received an earful of scolding before going to bed.
There’s a spring in her step as she swayed the empty bilao basket in her hand. Business was good that day and she sold everything easily. She was in the public market on her way home when she stumbled upon a man.
Cecilia only came up to his chest and she noticed his tanned arms and broad shoulders before looking up, surprised to see the tall guy the other day. This time, he was wearing a moss green shirt and a holster is attached to his belt.
His eyes widened in recognition and he smiled. “Fancy seeing you again.”
Cecilia, unable to form a proper response, returned his smile. She sidestepped so she won’t block his way and was about to go when he spoke again.
“I’m Harry,” he offered his hand, which she looked at curiously. American men, usually donned in military uniforms, were not a rare sight in their area. It had been years since they established a regent in their province and most people in their place have grown accustomed to interacting with them, though the fear and intimidation never ebbed away.
But this was a first. She had never directly spoken to them, especially if her parents are around. Her parents are strict but they are more uptight when it came to her, their eldest daughter.
He retrieved his proffered hand and brought it to his nape, scratching it awkwardly. Cecilia almost felt sorry but it faded when she remembered her father’s angry face.
She bowed her head and made another attempt to go on before he talked again.
“Can I know your name?” His eyes looked hopeful. The brown orbs looked at her intently and Cecilia cannot help but blink her eyes bashfully.
“My name is Cecilia,” she said in her practiced tone. A smile bloomed in his face. Cecilia balled her hands into fists, not expecting such reaction.
“Nice to meet you, Cecilia.”
***
She combed through his ash brown hair and smiled as she listened to him talk animatedly about the game they played at school yesterday. His brown eyes twinkled as he narrated how their group won in the end, bragging how he helped achieve the win.
“I must have gotten my strength from father, didn’t I Mom?” he flexed his arms the way the men in the marketplace do jokingly and she patted his hair while chuckling.
Her smile was a bit forced but she replied in affirmative. “Yes. Your father is a strong man. He fought a lot of bad people because he loves his
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