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I sneaked out of the building past 12 noon. I turned on my Walking Mate. I tucked in my hot pink earpods and played the music on Playlist 1. I walked down the hall and enjoyed the street art. I wondered how the artists were able to draw on the ceiling: where did they put the cans of paints, did they use ladders, were there anyone crossing the footbridge when they were painting, etc.
I looked around and watched everyone. Some were holding only their wallets and mobile phones. They must be going to the bank to make the most out of the one-hour lunch break. Some were with companies, probably friends who just got their pay and decided to have their lunch outside. Or they could be colleagues who were going to discuss business or something that has to be done privately. Some carried big backpacks and economy bags, who I can tell has walked from the other side of the bridge to where we were. They must be assigned to deliver goods for clients and partners to other parts of Makati, or even Ortigas, or maybe even as far as Quezon City. I suddenly thought that service vehicles would absolutely make sense if these people would be the ones who will enjoy the luxury of having them. They won’t ask for a Volvo or a Chrysler, for sure. And then there were some who were like me — listening to music, killing time.
Were they also thinking about who they were supposed to spend the time with? About how they should be feeling and not how they were actually feeling? About how it is easier to breathe outside? About not having the hardest time getting up from bed? About wanting to walk more and more and not having to go back?
I looked at my wristwatch, it said 1:52PM. I checked my pedometer and 5,357 steps were made. I realized I have not had lunch. I walked some more, got myself a Spring In The City and a 16OZ. Apple Juice from Chimara.
And on that moment, I wished the steps led me to where I really belong.