Check In

I love how the large chains now register their guests in the comfort of their rooms. Apart from the obvious convenience after a long and rough flight, it allows me to briefly lose myself in my fantasies.

They always choose the gorgeous ones for front desk duties. His English had a hint of an accent, and he confirmed he wasn't local. He's been in the country for a few years and was probably lonely.

As he gave me a tour of the suite, he seemed a bit nervous and kept running his tongue past his lower lip. By the time we walked by the king-sized bed, we couldn't contain ourselves and tore off each other's clothes.

I pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. I was rough, but he didn't mind. After all, he was there to please the customer. In between gasps, I kept on repeating, "I... Am... Checking... Innnnn!"

I reined in my runaway imagination, signed the forms and thanked him. I took up his offer of a tour of the rooftop bar. The building was one of the tallest in the city and the view was spectacular. I saw a nearby building where hubby and I stayed for a year, and I suddenly missed my better half.

I told the hotel rep that I could manage on my own and handed him a crisp bill. There was a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes, and I knew it wasn't the size of the tip. As he walked away, I speed-dialled the first number on my phone and checked in with my husband.

Trapped

I sat and waited. And then waited some more. They let the passengers into the plane late, then told us that we could only take off in an hour. They wouldn't let me go outside, and I was slowly losing my mind in the confined space.

I hate travelling for work and being alone to manage my fears. The captain's announcements raised false hopes each time. One hour. And yet another. Now it's 30 more minutes. I started to fidget and blamed my job for this trip and the bind I was in.

This is my nth flight in the past weeks, and I texted hubby that I wanted to quit. He repeated what he typically says. Everything will turn out well. That I've managed through worse. And in two days I'll be back home. He provides clarity beyond my emotions, and I tried to believe him.

And he was right. The plane started to roll down the runway, and my business trip officially started. I managed to doze off as I counted down the days and hours to when I'd be back home.

Missed Call

She couldn't sleep. Every now and then, she would get up from bed, part the curtains, and peer outside. It was dark, yet she knew something was out there, silently waiting. She was suddenly gripped by fear, and she started to tremble.

She checked on her children, peacefully sleeping, unaware of the imminent danger. She hugged them both, drawing comfort and strength. Even before she heard the rattling downstairs, she knew that the dark figure was already inside. She stifled a whimper.

She dialled my number, but I was unable to answer. Feeling defeated, she placed the phone on the dresser and braced for the inevitable. Her phone buzzed as I called her back. I knew that something was wrong, and I started to panic when she didn't answer.

I left voice and text messages, each one more desperate than the other. I started to blame myself for missing her call. The frustration turned to anger, this time directed at her for not picking up. But I realized she had graver worries than the flooding of her inbox.

To everyone in Manila and other affected areas, be safe.