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His phone rang; he picked it up and answered in a courteous manner. He was giving directions. My mind was somewhere far off when I heard him talking of cars, "Yung Fortuner ang gamit n'ya. Ang Hyundai ang dadalhin namin." I took notice of the man on the phone. Does this FX-riding dude own all those cars? Further into the conversation, I heard him talk of an expensive village and driving. I could only give guesses at that point.
What got me to notice him some more was when every time a passenger gets off, he extended his hands to the door as if assisting the alighting person. He did it as if it was the most natural thing to do. I took a closer look at him to validate my assumptions about him. He's a top of his class, I'm sure. He deserves my admiration.
His boss dies. A car is given to him for his service. He finally drives a car he calls his own.
Yes, I daydream, too, to while the time away.
The FX suddenly became quiet. At seven pm, I was nearing home, while the man who was earlier on the phone still had to get some work done.
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