Submitted by Phoebe Mendoza
On one sultry afternoon, my mom and I waited eagerly for the church-owned jeepney to pick us up. I was in my room combing my hair, and I can still remember how I smirked in front of the mirror and told myself that it would’ve been better if I were to be dropped off at my cousin’s place to hang out. Moments later, my mom told me to hurry up, and soon enough I could hear the jeep engine make noises outside of our house. I was only thirteen years old and the word “fun” didn't include this church event. I dragged myself out of my room and walked reluctantly towards the jeep.