The sun shines down on Ayisha, melting her like ice cream.
"Ang init… nakalimutan ko pa pamunas ko. Kaiinis," she mumbled to herself as sweat slowly dripped down her face.
She walked into a nearby convenience store, hoping the cool air would lower both her temperature and her irritation. She wandered through the aisles, pretending to look for something interesting, anything to distract herself from the heat.
That was when she bumped into someone.
He didn't even stop. He simply continued walking, as if he wasn't the one who had crashed into her.
Ayisha clenched her jaw but let it go. "Foreigners," she muttered as she headed toward the fridge. She grabbed a soda, went to the counter, and lined up—only for someone to suddenly cut in front of her.
"What the heck?!" she blurted out.
She took a closer look.
It was the same man from earlier.
Her blood began to boil. "Excuse me, sir," she said, forcing herself to stay calm, "but I'm supposed to be next. You should be at the back of the line."
"That's—"
"Will you guys move and stop fighting?" someone behind her snapped. "I'm in a rush."
Ayisha sighed and stepped out of the line. "Ah…" She scratched her head and waited for everyone else to finish.
After paying for her drink, she walked out of the store, already sipping her soda.
"So refreshing," she sighed.
"You're really a kid."
Ayisha turned around.
It was him. Again.
Her irritation flared instantly. "Will you quit with that?" she muttered, looking away. "Nakakainis na, puta."
"I can still hear you," he said calmly.
She faced him, forcing a polite smile. "How long have you been in the Philippines?"
"Ten years," he replied, taking a sip of his cold water.
"Are you always rude?" she asked.
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
Ayisha sighed. "Excuse me po, ah. I'm already twenty-three years old."
"Still a kid," he said.
She scoffed. "Then how old are you?"
"Thirty-five," he answered in a monotone voice.
Ayisha froze. "Thirty-five? You don't look like one."
He chuckled, clearly amused.
She watched him for a moment before clearing her throat. "I'm Ayisha," she said, extending her hand.
He accepted it. His hand was much bigger than hers.
"Call me Simon," he said with a small smile.
"What do you do for a living?" Ayisha asked as she pulled her hand away.
"I do photography and run a business."
She took a sip of her soda. "What kind of business?"
"A restaurant here in Manila."
Ayisha hummed. "I thought you were a jerk."
"And?" he asked.
"You are," she replied nonchalantly.
Suddenly, her phone made a ting sound.
She checked the message, finished her drink, and tossed the bottle into the trash. "It was nice meeting you, Simon—but I'll go now. Bye."
She walked away without waiting for his response.
Simon watched her leave and
shook his head.
"What a kid…" he muttered.