She donned a slightly pink-eyed look and her shoulders were slouched, a series of yawns followed. Her bed was out of her grasp but a seat dulled by the grime of years of service. She was cocooned at the jeepney’s rear with her heavy backpack on her lap, she felt the movements of the wheels as it trundled through the road. There was a procession of headlights like an enormous angry snake. The blare of the traffic and the hissing of the tires lured her more into sleepiness. Her eyes were almost closed when “thud!” she came around startled and picked her backpack on the floor, she unzipped her bag and vigorously checked for any damages.
The brakes squeaked and she lurched forward almost dropping her bag yet again. She slowly descended and coughed violently as the jeep lurched leaving a loud fart, a blast of cloud smoke from the exhaust pipe. “Ughh,” she sighed, she jutted out her bottom lip, her long bangs fanned upwards before tucking them back behind her ears. She made her way inside the park a few steps away from where the darn jeep left her and saw the crowd from both sides of the street, it was thus far thin and will soon be packed in a few hours.
“Lea!” the owner of the voice came barreling in and didn’t wait for her to get seated albeit hauled her to the nearest restroom and shoved her the attire she needed to change into. The backpack was laid at the foot of the grimy bathroom peppered with an array of colorful fragments. She wanted to see what she looked like in a garb of a billowing skirt and a floral off shoulders blouse, she opened her bag and took her phone out when a heavy knock almost knocked the phone out of her hands. She slipped the phone back and opened the door. Impatience was written all over his face, it impeded her proverbial affable nature.
Both sides of the streets were now filled with spectators, they’re packed like a shoal of fish, not minding the scorch of the afternoon sun. The street dancers lit the day, clad in their costumes, they’re a riot of color like a summer garden. There were floats dressed in a colorful ensemble of flowers marching down in the middle of the street. The audience and the media crave for their attention, every participant aspiring to be featured on a centerfold.
Lea never felt this beautiful until now, despite the heavy and damaged makeshift fairy wings on her back. Her long black hair flowing below her shoulder blades fan sideways as she danced gleefully, she silently thanked the bossy yet dependable make-up artist who glamorized her. The tear at the bottom left side of the wing patched with some colorful fragments flutters as Lea’s billowing skirts swam about her slender feet gracefully in tune through the beat of the parade. Her deep brown eyes now fully awake scanned the crowd. A click and whir of a camera made her turn and Lea smiled.