I’m breathing in fresh air of anger.
Naglalakad ang isang matipuno at puno ng tindig ng isang makapangyarihang sundalo sa aking harapan. Napakagandang masdan ang likuran nito kung hindi lamang ito nagngagalang Franco sapagkat lahat ng maganda sa kanyang mukha ay siyang ikinapangit ng kanyang ugali. He’s a demon. And the past few encounter with him I’m sure he might be Satan or a follower of him.
“Where are we going?” I ask for the third time. I didn’t expect him to answer since he’s been treating my anger with silence. And I am a ball of fire that wants to stay from him, a water that might kill me.
“We need some business to take care of.” He’s in deep thought. What is he thinking? Why can’t I read even single expression in his face every time? Is he born expressionless? Because that
