A few days ago while in 7-11 two women were staring at my groin.
“Bakit kayo nakatingin sakin?” I asked.
They pointed at the nail cutter dangling from the keychain on my belt.
Since Grade 6 I have always been carrying a nail cutter with me—I just have this weird genetic condition wherein the cuticles around my fingernails always get loose and fucking painful that I would have to cut them off immediately. It is the uncoolest thing ever but I always carry it with me. My mom insists that I developed this condition because I once cut my fingernails on a Good Friday.
“Pwede ba naming hiramin and nail cutter mo,” one of them said. “Ipambubukas namin ng lata ng sterilized milk.” She lifted the can of milk she had bought from 7-11 to illustrate.
I stared at them with total exophthalmos, hissed, and they ran away.