Summer's End

The temperature here in China suddenly dropped, as summer finally gave way to hubby's and my favorite season. The days are more pleasant for long walks, and the nights are perfect for snuggling.

But being my usual restless self, I started complaining to hubby that summer has passed and we look as pasty as ever. At the same time, I also worried about the coming winter, wondering if there would be heavy snow.

Hubby had to stop me, as I rummaged through our stuff in panic, searching for our swim wear to catch the summer's tail-end and heaters in preparation for the chilly months ahead.

He patiently explained that what is perfect now would just pass me by, if I dwell on both things past or have yet to come. He helped me with my singlet and shorts and led me out for that pleasant autumn walk.

Trains

I stood inside the train, responding intently to work-related e-mails with my Blackberry, when a pair of sweatpants came into view. I put the phone down and slowly looked up.

A plain white t-shirt that struggled to contain his massive pecs and biceps. A beautiful face, with tailored stubble that framed his luscious lips. That peaked side crop that everyone seems to be sporting these days.

He was such a vision that my eyes had to retrace their steps, before settling on those sweatpants that left little to the imagination. I had to remind myself that it was rush hour and my officemates could be in the same car.

I buttoned my coat, which was a size too small but framed my torso nicely, and pretended to use my BB to be able to continue staring. It took every ounce of restraint to keep myself from snapping away with the phone's cam.

I'd like to think that it was the handsome suit, rather than the heavy drooling, which got him to take notice. He would steal glances, but I continued to ignore him, which further stoked his interest.

The doors slid open to the sound of loud beeping. The guy looked up at the blinking light on the train network map and realized it was his stop. He quickly rushed outside before the doors shut tightly behind him.

I edged closer to the doors, as he turned around to face me. I placed my hand on the panel that separated us. The train started to move, but I still held his gaze, until all I could see on the glass was my own reflection.

Charot.

Banana

The company paid for me to attend a three-day seminar. The major industry players were present, and quite a number of the delegates were Chinese guys who were either born or bred overseas.

Bananas, as American or British-born Chinese are called here in China - yellow on the outside, yet white inside. I can single them out by how they look, even before they speak, and I personally find them attractive.

I focused on the topics presented, injected humor in the discussions, and pretended not to notice the cute guys and their accents. And by the time they served lunch, I knew who among them was checking me out.

We broke up early for the day, but I lingered in the function room. The guy I was eyeing across the room (and vice versa) also stayed behind. He approached me after a few minutes and introduced himself.

We exchanged business cards and were surprised with the identical logos. I quickly came up with a lame excuse for leaving, and reminded myself of a painful yet valuable lesson I once learned.

Don't ever shit in your own backyard.

Dreams

I used to dream of a number of things. Thousand dollar shoes. An 84-inch LED TV. A year in Eastern Europe. A villa by the beach. Things I thought I could have one day, if I worked hard enough.

It's been years, but my oxfords are still nowhere near a four figure price tag. Our TV more closely resembles an iPad. I've given up fantasies of doing porn in Prague. And a villa when I can barely afford my mortgage?

I'm still working (too) hard. But the only things I dream of these days are the weekends.

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.