The rain poured down relentlessly, drenching everything in a cold blanket of water. Steak, the old family dog, relentlessly barked downstairs.
“What’s wrong boy?” I rushed towards him, “Why’s this window open? Did somebody get in?”
I picked up a bat sitting nearby and walked toward the back door. As the hinges creaked and the door swung open, Steak ran out into the showery night, heading somewhere unclear. He ran so fast it was as if he was a young pup again, not minding his age — chasing something, or rather, someone.
A thunderclap startled me, making my heart beat faster.
“Steak! Steak where are you going?” I shouted at him, but he was gone… nowhere to be seen. Must be a thief, I said to myself. But why steal here? Nothing good to get in an old house like this.
I walked off into the rain, but not because I want to chase the thief too; Steak must have dropped from exhaustion not very far.
A few steps further and I realized who Steak was chasing.
Somebody didn’t get in, somebody got out.
That somebody was grandpa.
BINABASA MO ANG
A Day in 1953
Short StoryEveryday with Ben is different yet very familiar at the same time. On some days, I'd remind Ben that we're related. On some days, we play cards. On some days, we talk about dogs. Everyday, he tells me I look like Maura Fischer--his first and last tr...
