Glass

Trusting my soul to the ice cream assassin.
- Tori Amos

People think I know where I'm going but the truth is I don't. I don't even recognize the clothes that I'm wearing and when they call my name -- Camille -- it's like it's not my name at all.

Nevertheless, things feel familiar. I'm in a building made of glass. When I ride the elevator made of glass I wonder if people from below can see my underwear. The glass is so clear. I can see miles away to what could be... uhm... Antipolo, maybe.

Then I see the bullet come toward me ever so slowly that I have time to make a list in my mind of all the people who would want me dead.