Old Days Break Free [ON HOLD]

2

The woman and her commitment

Lorraine's POV

"Ate, dalawang cup po ng rice at isang order ng menudo."

"frittata egg and rainbow rice for po, ate."

Here we are, in what Athena likes to call a "turo-turo" spot—a quaint, unassuming eatery not far from her hospital. 

It's one of those places that seems to exist quietly in the corners of a bustling city, just a few blocks away, where the noise fades but the hum of life remains.

The atmosphere is lively. 

A mix of people coming and going, filling the air with the clatter of plates, soft chatter, and the unmistakable aroma of freshly cooked meals. 

It feels like an open-air restaurant, yet somehow intimate. 

Behind a clear glass counter, an array of food is laid out in large metal bowls—dishes that evoke the comforting flavors of home-cooked meals, inviting anyone who walks by to pick and choose.

“Afritada egg?” Athena’s voice breaks my reverie, pulling me back to the moment. 
She says it so casually, like it's the most normal combination in the world.

I turn to her, raising an eyebrow, trying to decode the words that had just slipped from her lips. 

There’s a certain curiosity that flickers in my eyes, unsure whether she’s serious or just teasing me.

"Huh?" That’s all I manage to say, my voice filled with confusion as I try to grasp what she meant. 

Afritada and egg? 

Together? 

It’s not something you hear every day.

She stares back at me with an equally puzzled expression, as if my lack of understanding somehow baffles her in return.

“Huh?” she repeats, this time with an exaggerated tilt of her head, mimicking my earlier reaction as though we were caught in some strange loop of misunderstanding.

Now we’re just standing there, face to face, heads both tilted in unison, caught up in a moment of mutual bewilderment that feels oddly theatrical.
 
It’s almost as if we’re waiting for the other to break first, like two performers locked in a silent competition to see who can out-confuse the other.

"HUH?" I say again, my voice slightly louder now, almost challenging her as if we’re playing a game neither of us fully understands. 

"Sabi mo afritaga egg. Ano yun?" Internally, I could only facepalm in embarrassment.

This situation wasn’t just a small misunderstanding—it was one of those moments where you wish you could just disappear into thin air.

How had we ended up like this?

I turned to her, mustering a smile, trying to ease the tension between us.

Maybe if I just calmly corrected her, things would get back on track.

"Frittata egg," I said with deliberate care, enunciating each syllable, hoping to clarify the confusion.