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Yoyoy^©

 In my early years as a teacher, my neighbor, Yoyoy, was enrolled in my class. 

Since I was only a little older than him, we were a bit casual with each other. He is an outgoing person and since I could be a good alibi – his parents would let him attend university balls and other overnight activities whenever he “goes with Sir Pornel” – he grow fond of my company.

One Sunday afternoon, while I was engrossed reading a novel, Yoyoy dropped by and started a one-way conversation with me. He talked about an “awesome girl” he just met and some other things teenage boys were crazy about.

I don’t remember much about the conversation since my only contributions were scattered grunts between pages of the novel. At last he said goodbye and I gave a sigh of relief for a response.

That was the last thing he heard from me. He was struck by lightning four days later.

If I’d known before hand, I could have talked to him for hours.

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