Vanilla

It is four past noon and the sun, much like in the hometown, is nearing to set with a darker shade of yellow. The temperature is the same: It almost felt like he never left. Filipinos are everywhere, that is a conclusion that cannot be contested.

While treading the orange bricks, James saw her. She is the most beautiful girl that he has ever seen.

The girl, who apparently, was hurt and was holding on at the outside pillars for support, is a Jew. James asked her what was wrong, and she pointed at her sandals. Departing from the obvious, he snatched for detail. There was blood on her left pinky-toe. James pulled out his handkerchief, pegging a bleed-stopper knot that he knew since he became a Boy Scout.

She is Vanilla. James had unfathomable notions about her name. The girl said she had to go back home. James offered his hands so that Vanilla could walk, then he could accompany her to their humble abode.

Her hands are very delicate, it had a scant trace of ivory and a lingering softness which was worth the touch. She had small fingers, weakened by the loss of blood in her system. She was still shaking as he was lifting her from a lower position.

They held hands until they were more than a kilometer away from the coliseum. They walked some more, talked, and laughed at whatever funny things they had in mind. Vanilla is not only beautiful, but also, very charming, and very kind. He now, would never doubt why J-s-s had the heart for the children, especially from his own kind. Jews are very passive, good natured fellows. Vanilla satisfied his quest for knowledge by giving him the first hand teacher, experience.

James longed to stay at her side but it cant be...


to be concluded.