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​Almost always, it takes five hours to get to my hometown. 

When I hopped into Ceres Tours bus at the Cebu SouthBus Terminal this afternoon, I was told that there were no more vacant seats. I couldn’t care less, I said. 

I wanted to come home already, and to get going rather than wait for the next trip. 

So I stood, willing despite my stomach grumbling, because I didn’t want to delay for another five minutes after I’d logged off from work earlier only to get something to grab a bite of. 

But it was not until I’d been standing for three consecutive hours when my knees started etiolating that I decided to squat on the floor and take a nap, half-awake, hoping that a vendor may come into the bus and start chanting the familiar anthem: “Ampao!” “Chicharon!” “Buko Pie.” 

So far, there’s none of the above. But I’m well. I’m just hungry. Thanks for the concern. 

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