POV

11.09.24

I wake up to an intense warmth filling every corner of my boarding house room, the air thick and unmoving.

Rubbing my eyes to chase off the last bit of sleep, I sit up slowly, feeling the heat settle in.

Is there a blackout?

My eyes find their way to our electric meter, and I confirm it—no red light.

It’s definitely a blackout.

Already feeling the sticky warmth clinging to my skin, I quickly tidy my bed, trying to shake off the grogginess.

I stretch my arms high, loosening up, before making my way to the window.

I slide it open, hoping at least a hint of a breeze will drift in.

Sweat’s already trickling down my cheeks, so I grab a small towel to dab it away. This heat is relentless.

What now?

The room feels like it’s baking.

My stomach grumbles, suddenly demanding attention, and I glance over at the rice cooker.

With a little smile, I remember Ate A had cooked rice last night.

Should I eat now?

Yes, I think I will.

Time to stop skipping meals—I need to be healthy, maybe even gain a little weight.

I've joked about being a “stick woman” for long enough.

I grab a plate, scoop up some rice, and reach for last night’s leftovers.

Lifting the container to my nose, I sniff it, relieved when it still smells good.

I settle in and start eating, but my mind wanders as I remember: my two brothers.

Bringing it over to the small table, I prop it up and scroll through my contacts, quickly finding my brother’s number.

I press the call button and continue eating, expecting to hear his voice soon.

But instead, there’s nothing but a faint tone, and I see that I have no signal.

Annoyed, I redial, but it’s the same thing—dead air.

I try turning on my data, but the internet’s gone too.

What’s happening with my phone?

I feel my focus slip from breakfast as I stare at the screen, lifting my phone up to see if a signal might miraculously appear.

But the moment I set it back down, the signal drops again.

A bar flickers for a second, and I dial as quickly as I can, but it’s useless.

The signal barely registers, just the faintest “E” at the top of the screen.

Maybe Globe’s network is on break too, in solidarity with the power outage.

When I finish eating, I gather up my things and head out to wash my dishes.

The hallway rings with the voices of my roommates, louder than usual.

Without fans or electric sounds to drown them out, their conversations bounce down the hall, filling the space with warmth and laughter.

It’s funny—I don’t think I’ve ever really heard them talking like this.

At the sink, I wash my plate, the cool water running over my hands like a small relief from the heat, and then I dry it off and head back to my room.

I check my phone again, only to be met with the same disappointing lack of signal.

Sighing, I toss it onto my bed and decide to make the most of the blackout by cleaning up.

I grab the broom and begin sweeping, watching the dust rise and settle in the golden light.

After about fifteen minutes, I finish and sit down to rest, catching my breath.

After a short break, I decide to wash my face and brush my teeth, hoping to feel a bit more refreshed.

I gather my things and head to the bathroom, where the cold splash of water brings a moment of relief from the heavy heat.

By the time I’m back in my room, Ate J has returned from work, a smile lighting up her face.

She’s holding something for me, another little treat, and I can’t help but feel grateful.

My debt to her keeps growing.

We exchange small stories about our day, sharing quiet laughter, and then decide it’s time to take a rest.

Sleeping isn’t really on my mind, though—the room still feels like an oven, and I have a stack of assignments waiting for me.

But my body seems to have other plans, as if it remembers Saturdays are meant for rest.

Before I know it, my “quick break” turns into a deep, much-needed nap.