by Justine C. Tajonera
Mr. Ying, our consultant, always signed his documents
with green ink. It was as distinctive as the bold strokes
of his signature itself. I bought myself a green pen
today. And as I write I think of newly cut grass and
the sap encrusted leaves of mango trees and the line of
water near the beach that borders the darkness of deep
water and the long stretch where you can wade and the
crinkly looking seaweed that are in abundance in May.
I think of your birthday which is today. Maybe
I should have written on your card in green. There
won't be a reply. I know it already. So, I should
have written in the color of stalks, hopeful for
the blooming of flowers.
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