EROSPort and I sat on the sofa, holding hands while Perth was striding back and forth, crossed arms and stern face. The door opened, and Ara hurriedly entered. Port lowered his head upon seeing his best friend. "I cannot believe what I just heard!" she howled, walking toward the living room. "I'm glad you came," Perth greeted his girlfriend. "As it should!" she pointed. Ara glared at us, "Eros!" I jumped upon hearing her shrieking voice. "How dare you lay your hands on my bestie!" Ara snatched my hair then pulled it. "Argh," I groaned, trying to shove Ara's grasp. "How dare you, Eros Cuevas!" she cried, tugging my hair forcefully. All I could do was screech and lean forward to minimize the distress in my scalp. Perth was shouting, stopping Ara from balding me, and Port was helping me to remove her hands. "Bestie,

EROSPort sat on a picnic cloth with his legs crossed; he distributed sandwiches to the kids forming a straight line. His face was a perfect picture of euphoria. "Eros," I turned to my left and saw a familiar face. She was wearing a plain white shirt and navy blue skirt with a veil on her head. It was Sister Connie, the pre-school teacher in the orphanage. She was smiling at me as she approached. "Sister," I greeted, bowing my head. "God bless you, son," she said, patting my head. "It's been ages, sister," "When was the last time you have visited here?" "Last year. I think May," I answered shortly. I joined her walking around the field where picnic setups were made. "Ah, it was Sister Ely's birthday. Blessed her soul," I nodded. I finally recalled it was Sister Ely's birthday celebration,

EROS As I descended on the staircase, the whole unit smelled of an aromatic, warm home meal. Port was at the counter, busily preparing something. The kitchen was a chaotic mess; this time, it was a good mess—unlike his first days in my old house. "Good morning," I greeted him as I walked toward the kitchen. Port gazed at me quickly, smiling at me, then chopped vegetables. "I tried to wake you up, but you looked tired, so I decided to let you snooze," I giggled as I sat on a tall stool. "It was an exhausting day yesterday." "Not me," he gave a half-shrug. I scanned the whole kitchen; stacked containers with food inside were placed at the side near the refrigerator. At the stove, a crispy-sounding noise from deep-fried chicken wings and the faint boiling of a tomato sauce on another pan. Bowls of queued spices, prepared for another