One Hundred Fifty

42 - Windows

I think, my first ever creative non-fiction?

I'm a vendor. I sell foods, shampoos,
coffees, cigar, alcohol, anything good
for convenience. As if you do not know that? In our little humble abode, our sari-sari store is a little room with big windows. Of course, for the buyer to explore various items they may want to buy, for us to exchange our money, for us to look exactly the way we want it.

It is a transactional window, ah yes, that's the word.

For a vendor like me, I always find it hard to get peace with patience. You know, I'm at the peak of the movie, or I'm about to put my most delicious meal of the day, only to be interrupted with a knock of coins on the marble table and an annoying squeak of,

"Mabakal..." which we translates as, "I'm buying, get the foc out of there."

I'm a vendor, yet, I get annoyed with these disturbances.

However, one thing I find fascinating with my parents occupation that I sometimes occupy myself... is how I get to meet different people and present them their different needs. Especially, as I look at the big window.

I'll get out of my room, face the big window, and the big window will offer some unique kind of person.

Some, beat their kids up to shut up. Then another will show up, who's so well spoken at her child I almost thought she was the mallows we're selling. Some have their drunkard husbands behind their back, some, they're drunkard wives themselves. Some, little kids who thought their money's enough. Some who though it wouldn't be. Some possess these pair of crimson red eyes, and from their behavior I know they're high, and they're up here to smoke more things that'll get them higher, and higher.

Once, a boy bought something, the next time he'll come back, offering me with a piece of paper indicating the family's needs they cannot afford but will, some other time. Such buyer is a nuance and yet, you'll see the dirty shrubs of his clothes uncleaned face, but a polite smile and look. Some, just a really pretty but rude little child, who'll always tell what she wants and will get it some other way if she runs out of coins.

At some point, this two little child came across each other, to buy something at the same pace. I looked at them, waiting to speak. The girl obviously will come in first, ordered large coke, her third one. While the guy looked at his coins, then at the biscuits he have been wanting. Chocolate oreos. It's a 7 pesos biscuits, yet, with the tumbling 2 peso coins on his hands, it was to no avail.

The kid... on the other hand got her large coke. Happily.

You thought the little girl would pay for him huh? It happens. But not in my reality. My reality is people stomped, hard, if not from money, for money.

Don't sue me if I didn't do anything. Mind you we're also deprived of free will. I am stuck with chains in my hands and the dollar bill imprinted on it. We're all a victim of poverty at some point. Deprived of something. Cause in this world we're different, shape, color, nation, but similar in deprivation.

That's my window, that's my reality.