“You know, I’d tell you to get a real job, but I don’t think they’d accept a lowlife like yourself,” she tells me in Tagalog, her native tongue. At this point, I’m close to snapping. The blood is rushing to my head. I am breathing heavily, and my right hand is shivering from rage being pulled by a thin line of self-restraint. Instead, I look her in the eye with a deep, blank stare.
Out of nowhere, she grabs the glass of water nearest to her and throws it at my face. Staring right back... Please subscribe to keep reading.
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