It’s around fifty minutes pass noon when I arrive at Adamson University’s Theater Hall where I'm asked to wait for the campus’ artistic director. I spend the first ten minutes walking back-and-forth on the front of the stage and when a tingling sensation squirms around my legs, I take a seat to the chair nearest to the stage and to the isle then take off my oversized jacket and drape it over my arm while I slip my hand inside my sling bag. To my surprise, my mother mistakenly put Mr. Arturo Ruiz’s handkerchief instead of mine in here but since sweat starts to occur on my neck, I have no choice but to use it.
'I’ll wash it again then return it to him when we meet.'
A moment later, a thumping and ticking noise resound in the hall so I look over my shoulder and see a woman in a formal attir
