15 Grenade by Carla Joanne Robles
Lights were blaring against my eyes and the loud, chaotic noise of the traffic jam drilled my ears. As the jeepneys stood motionless, these little impoverished kids filled the roads, handing out tiny, white envelopes with handwritten notes that barely formed comprehensible words. This one particular boy ran up to the bus that I was on, climbing the stairs. I was surprised at how desperate he looked. When he got up and straightened his posture, he quickly rummaged through his baggy, faded shirt down to his seemingly miracle pocket that was still intact, considering how his small, yellowish pants were torn at the sides and the seams. As he successfully got his hands on the envelope, he mustered a sad glint in his eyes – the same sadness that darkened the land with poverty. As he held the envelope tight in his hand, he walked up the small platform to the seats up the front of the bus. After what seemed like a minute or so, he gathered his courage and poked the man sitting in front, nibbling on his biscuit that looked too sweet for his age. The man glanced at the kid and shook his head; a small understanding between them. The kid started to turn around to face the seat across the man but he was surprised when the man softly tugged on his large shirt to offer the remaining biscuits. Without thinking twice, he grabbed the small bag of biscuits and munched on them while facing the other seat. Swallowing the last bite he had, he offered the envelope to a couple of teenagers. The one sitting near the aisle pretended to be asleep while the other one near the window had turned up the volume of her earphones; then again, an understanding was made. Restlessly facing back then front and walking to the sides, the little boy who held the envelope was still empty-handed. The biscuits the man gave him was long gone, too. Then, he reached my seat. I was sitting near the door of the bus on the left portion of the seat near the aisle when he handed me his tiny, crumpled, white envelope. Written on the envelope was, "Bless your soul for giving for the deaf."
