Lahat ng Kabanata ng Before You Became a Memory: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 6

I kicked a flower pot into our alley that I had passed around the corner. I'm not sure why my blood boils when I see flowers, particularly when they're about to bloom. They were like little twits taunting and smiling at me. If no one had noticed me earlier, I would have plucked up all the petals from the pot, destroying them and preventing them from blooming again. To be honest, I'm not only annoyed by flowers but by stuffed toys as well.We recently moved to Sta. Teresita, after my father sold the house we used to live in. This location is in favour of his workplace and the school where my sister Janel attends. They also acquired a great location for Mum's bubble tea business because it's right in front of the plaza.We've just been here a week, but Mum and Dad have already made friends. And what I hate is some of Mum's friends enjoy flowers as much as she does.I'm on my way home from a book signing. Oh, before I forget, allow me to introduce myself. I am Mia Romero—a writer. I don'

Saturday, and I had just finished a book signing where plenty of readers came. I wasn't the only author there, so almost all the readers of various stories had reached out just to see their favourite writers.Carrying the gifts given to me by my readers, I couldn't quite figure out how to hold them all. It was already misting, and I had forgotten to bring an umbrella earlier because I was rushing for time after waking up late. Fortunately, someone was kind enough to help me carry my belongings to the vehicle.I only took a public vehicle because no taxi passed by the location where the event was being held. I didn't want to keep transferring rides since I had too many things with me. So when I got on the bus, I did not get off until my stop, praying the rain wouldn't catch up with me. The weather looked pretty bad, as if it were going to pour at any moment.I got down at the alley where Mang Kanor's shop was located. It was a bit dark around because of the heavy downpour, even though

It had been a week since I met that arrogant man who called me a liar and a cheater. A week had passed, but the impact of what he told me was still there; I still couldn't forget it. I knew I shouldn't pay attention to it because, as he had said, I judged him, so he simply retaliated.But what I didn’t understand was why his words felt like the truth to me. Not the part about being a liar and a deceiver, but the idea that writers are cowards who hide behind words and letters. I felt like that was exactly what I did every time I wrote—hiding behind the stories I created.I peeked out the window just to look outside and saw Mum talking to her flowers, smiling and nodding. She really believed her flowers were responding to her. They were facing my window, and it felt as if they were greeting me good morning. But instead of making me happy, the thought only annoyed me more.To me, they looked like they were mocking me. I felt like Mum had intentionally planted them just to annoy me every