Maningning, A China Lass
Traffic was unusually light that Friday Morning. Maningning reached the Far Eastern University from Diliman in less than an hour. Maningning plucked a stem of bougainvillea at the trellis and carried it with her as she greeted the clerk seated at the office on the ground floor of the Institute of Architecture and Fine Arts. She then took the elevator to the seventh floor where her class usually met. The quiz she would give today would be unlike all others.
She was fifty minutes too early. The Brigada Siete TV crew, which featured her later, took a picture of the flowers she left in the women’s comfort room. She walked along the corridor. To one side was the row of empty classrooms, to the other were the railings that guarded people from falling to the empty space below. I should think her heels ached, because stunned witnesses claimed that she removed her shoes. Wings grew from where she felt the pain. The wings lifted her to the railing where she sat for a while facing the classroom walls, to her back the gaping space into her underworld. I imagine how she imagined wings growing from her pained heart. She lifted her head and prepared to lie in the air. But hearts in pain do not grow wings. She fell to the awning six floors below. She was twenty eight.