… And I Cared For Image.

I was watching TV, HBO this morning.
The phone rang, it was JJ.
Karen had wanted her ‘baby’ pillow since yesterday and wanted me to bring it down to her in her car.
I found it and went ahead down.
In the lift, I realized I was in a terrible state.
I had on me a minced meat noodle stain on my rugged Garfield home tee.
I was in my home-only pasamalan fake Nike shorts.
Worse, my spectacles was the home-only, with one of the lens cracked and scotch-taped together.
It was too late; I felt rushed to go back to watch TV; I was already in a lift going down. Heck.
Shoot. There was someone outside the lift.
I tried to cover the imperfections, even though they were all overwhelming.
And for that moment today, image outside didn’t seem to matter at all.


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