My mind is not the place to be right now so… I’m going to read that book, The Stranger.
The jeepney driver, who was seated next to me in the left, is engaged in a banter with a passenger at the back seat. They’re squabbling over the “real” fare for the Apas-Ramos route. My senses snap at their exchange, then back to you, Camus. As my eyes prod to read the next paragraphs, I cant help but second-think: did the banter over the nine-peso fare really occurred? Because their voices seemed to belong to the pages you filled.
They were men and strangers, too.