"You need to feel where the shot will go."

The children in front of me here in the wide field are alert and staring. I just let their eyes follow where I was going and stop while discussing. Ten children are now lined up in the shooting line

under the shady sky. The wind was just right, I was still looking for time before they did what I

was teaching.

"Move the left foot forward and the right is at the back. You should have formed your body like a T and be comfortable with your position," I remind.

They did that quickly, releasing the left foot into the line while the right was left behind the line.

Good.

I was just on the sidelines while telling them what to do, I noticed an increase in the

number of students surrounding us so I confronted them.

"We have a training here. Don't you have a class?" I asked the grade four kids based on the color of their p.e uniform.

They shook me while the others continued to watch. I looked at where their other classmates were coming from who seemed to be approaching us as well.

"If you want to watch them, be quiet and stay outside the lane, or else I will call your parents. Is that clear?"

"Yes teacher!" they answer simultaneously.

I no longer bothered to waste time with them because the children I was teaching had another class. I face them again.

"Listen! I will discuss the other matter so you can follow me. If you want to try every procedure that I will discuss then do. First! Let's look at stance, gently grip the bow. I just want to remind you to keep your hand relaxed. Okay next, knock the narrow by clipping it onto the string. "

They quickly followed what I was saying, they placed the arrow correctly on the bow and quickly straightened the back, their left hand held the arrow away, and the right was on the arrow, the fist pressed right to the jaw and ready to release that.

I walked behind them and checked if the position was correct from head to toe. I stopped at the sixth child who was obviously shaking hands and averted his gaze from me.

"Relax Lorence, you won't kill. Stance will hit you. I will base your grades in this performance. We already know that we have a try-out so you should know this," I said loudly at the end and walked again.

When I got to the very end I then stood up straight.

"When you're ready, release the string by

relaxing your fingers," I said softly.

I noticed more and more students around. They seem to be in recess so here they are.

They are kind and know how to reprimand.

"Now. Release," I commanded

simultaneously with the simultaneous plunging of the arrow in the middle of the stormy wind and hitting the stance.

I quickly picked up the record and gave them a grade right away. Others are thrilled to have their arrow hit in the middle. Of those ten, it looks like I have something to fight for at another school.

They put away their belongings and said goodbye to me. I left the field immediately because it seemed to be raining due to the darkness even though it was still noon.

I am an Archery Teacher, although I want to teach children different lessons but I have other things to worry about, in this job I am having a hard time because children want to learn but the

brain is slow to processso long patience is needed. That's why I always rejected their offer to be an adviser in one section and handle five sections as a subject teacher. Less work, less pressure.

I wearing black fitted long sleeve and black leggings. Because I feel that my sweat is crawling

down my neck, I decided to change because I will be home soon. I go straight to my own office

because each club has its own office.

I handled the Archery Club for almost three years in university, I was also quickly accepted

because they needed a teacher like me, which I also don't know why I took a course about

teaching when I don't like children. I know in myself that my weakness is childish because my

patience is short, when I say be quiet, I want to be silent immediately.

I hate school. I want weapon. I hate topics, but I love history ... About criminal and other crime. I'm not a killer tho, I'm just quickly attracted to such things.

I still have two hours left. So much so that I can write. I sit in the chair and face the laptop where I often do something I’m busy with. To write. I don't know if the term I usually used is correct or

what. I always saying I write but I used my laptop. Stuck between I write or I type.

Funny. It is difficult to explain especially to the narrow-minded.

"Miss Ficarro!" a familiar shout from the door and the closing of the door.

I briefly looked at it holding the postcards and other books as well as the container of chalk.

"What?" I asked as I opened the laptop. He sat down and then fanned himself.

I could see out of the corner of my eye what he was doing opening the cell phone and there was

something hurriedly reading. When I opened the laptop I immediately pressed the notes where I

would continue to the next chapter.

"Why did you kill that hero?" its opening causes me to stop typing. I didn't want to look at him.

"Necessary," was my short reply and the depression was obvious to him.

I went back to typing again but I knew the ritual would begin again — his frequent questioning

of what I was writing.

"Why is it necessary? Nikasha! He deserves to live, besides there is no reason for the hero to

die," he complained with his nose almost sticking to the laptop.

"Patricio, it's not fantasy to make alive again those already dead. Can you just read?" I asked

then leaned back in the chair.

"It's not that easy, of course I love your character after that? Goodness!" its forehead.

"They won't cry for you when you die. They're not true. Why don't we just accept the fact that

everyone is leaving." I ignored him, but he gave me a doubtful look.

He used to be like that, saying 'bitter' or single. I see nothing wrong with being single. In fact,

those people who are single is the happiest one, if they are contented.

I was not short of milk and my uncle's love to find a man. Nah. Never. I was able to write for

about thirty minutes and Patricio was silent as he made the lesson plan. I can finish a chapter

quickly depending on my mood. I sipped my coffee and then went back to the story referred to Patricio that the hero died.

I dedicated this one to my uncle. The hero I’m referring to is papa. I wrote their history and

journey every mission that they did. I'm so proud to myself because I write a story that was only

exist in my mind and in my past, but now, they're read it not only in America but in the other

countries. I can't imagine myself doing this passion. I thought I would only handle guns and

various weapons.

"Nikasha, I'll go, I still have class. Just kiss me for daddy Zenos, my oh so hot sugar daddy," he

said with a bite while holding the doorknob.

"Fvck you my friend, teach well," I smiled and raised my middle finger.

He just parted his hair which he thought was long and closed the door. I'm alone now, I don't know where I'm going home now. I want to go in my own house but I missed them. I also want

to taste their cooking. I don't know how to cook anything but fried foods. I can't cook. I don't

know how.

"Are you leaving Ma'am Ficarro?" question of a janitress who often cleans the office.

"Yes. I'll just leave it to you. " I simply said then I turned around when I handed over the key.

Instead of going straight to the parking lot I walked to the terminal to commute. I can drive but I

can almost run, that's why I stopped. I admitted that I'm not good with that stuff. I was just forced into that thing. I took the bus and I didn't have a hard time because I took the aircon. Less human and cold. I just stood at the very front and right next to the window, I immediately felt

drowsy and was prevented from falling asleep because I didn’t trust the people here especially

the driver who was staring straight at me.

"Miss? Can I sit here?" asked a man who looked just my age. I reluctantly looked at it pointing to

the vacant seat next to me.

"Does that chair look like mine?" It swallowed and averted its gaze.

Didn't he see me as a passenger too? Stupid.

I just felt its presence. I just focused myself on looking outside and maybe I could even get an

idea about what I was writing. It's hard to write, some think it's a joke especially if they don't

know anything about literature. Plus, I don't do an outline.

I don't follow. But outline is really

important, but nah! I just pictured my plot in my mind and grabbed the pen or typed it. Then go

with the flow. I'm almost done with my novel that I'm currently working on, Patricio reads.

The fun is different when I finish the article. That was an achievement for other writers, to be

marked as completed their work. But we have a weakness also, did not finish what we started.

And I'm scared with that.

When I got down I walked a few more kilometers, I just comforted myself by looking at the tall

trees and the wind blowing because it works my brain. At the far end and there is a big gate there

where the mansion is. I just sighed because I was going to walk again, why should no one even

pick me up.

From not far away I noticed the familiar vehicle, I rarely see it here in the mansion and he is the one who rarely visits here. I watched Lucas laugh out loud while holding a brown envelope. But

that stopped when it saw me. Slightlyit even waved at me that I just nodded.

"Did you get a visit?" its opening that looked like something was going on because of what he was wearing.

"I'll eat," I replied simply as he accompanied me to walk in.

"You want me to cook?" he asked again as I asked.

I no longer felt him until I entered the kitchen. I was really hungry, I was not able to change my

clothes first because my eyes caught the freshly cooked food. I quickly took mine and ate right

away, I don’t know what to call them as if cooked in restaurants.

I didn't offer anymore because they had already eaten. There were three dishes, there was almost

only one left because I was so hungry and I felt like I could still eat it. I was about to spoon food

again when suddenly someone entered the kitchen.

He's wearing a white long sleeve polo and black pants. It stopped when it saw me and almost

stared at me and dropped the food, I could barely move because there seemed to be something

wrong. Some time later Lucas suddenly came and stared at me.

"You ate? Maru! Damn," shocked he said and then slapped the shoulder of the person next to

him.

"Why? Is it forbidden?" I asked weakly then let go of the chicken thigh.

"We'll take it—"

"No. It's okay, consume it all," Maru interrupted what Lucas was saying. I almost swallowed.

This is what they will bring to their company for an eve— shit! Fvck!

I backed away from my seat and then stood up.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know that—"

"Niks! It's okay, we were just surprised. Didn't you have breakfast at your house before? You

look very hungry," said Lucas who was already sitting in the far seat.

I simply looked at Maru who was now turning her back on us and fetching water from the

refrigerator.

"I'll just change it," I said and pinched my finger lightly. I don’t know how to cook them, nor

soup dishes I don’t remember how.

"It's okay. A lot of people will bring food there. Just eat that if you're still hungry," Maru said

weakly, still turning her back on me.

"So that's it. You want him to cook for you?" Lucas added that I quickly shook.

"Not anymore. I'm okay. Thank you," I said then turned away from them.

I preoccupied myself with washing the ones I used and praying that they would go away. I can

feel their presence until now! I know they're looking at me.

"Come on Maru, We're late! You've already run out of water there," Lucas said laughing when I

heard the chair being adjusted.

"We'll go ahead, Niks!" it said so I nodded.

I waited for another voice but I heard nothing. I carefully placed the glass on the right to look at

the reflection behind me, I saw nothing. They left.

But why am I feel like this? I felt like I'm an idiot. Why would I expect him to say goodbye? It's

like I swallowed what I said before. I can't accept it, but that's the truth.