C1: Morning Routine (Shin Yu)
C1: Morning Routine (Shin Yu)
The alarm buzzed against the quiet of the small apartment, a sharp, insistent vibration that cut through the gray light of dawn. It was a sound I had learned to ignore in my dreams, but my body responded to it with a practiced, heavy ache. I reached out, my fingers fumbling across the cold nightstand until the noise died. For a second, the silence that rushed back in was heavier than the alarm.
Beside me, the sheets shifted. My five-year-old sister, Yumi, stirred, her small face scrunched up as she wrestled with the tail end of a dream she couldn’t quite catch.
“Kuya… I dreamt na my ipin fell out daw po and iniwan mo ako, Kuya!” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and a lingering, subconscious panic. Before I could answer, she crawled into my bed, seeking the warmth of the spot I was about to vacate.
I sighed, the sound catching in my throat. “It was just a dream, Yumi. I’m right here,” I whispered, though the words felt thin. Hoping, someone would say it to me as well…
I rolled out of bed, my hair tangled and falling like a heavy curtain over my shoulders. I caught my reflection in the cracked mirror propped against the wall—dark circles under my eyes and a frame that felt too tired for seventeen. Another day, another set of silent responsibilities. With our dad abroad, sending back just enough to keep the lights flickering, and no mother around to fill the gaps, the walls of this apartment felt like the boundaries of my entire universe. It was always just us.
The kitchen was cold. I prepared breakfast silently, the clink of the spoon against the rice pot the only rhythm to my morning. I set the small table with two plates, moving with mechanical efficiency. Yumi sat on her chair, legs dangling, watching me with wide, expectant eyes. She looked so much like the photos of our mother that it sometimes hurt to look at her for too long. The mother, who ran to chase her dreams. Dreams that I wish I could also chase…
There was a rhythm to these mornings—a rhythm of preparing, feeding, and protecting. It was a cycle that kept me grounded, yet every movement felt like I was wading through deep water.
When the time came to walk her to the neighbor who watched her before school, I finally allowed myself a single, stolen glance at my desk. My sketchbook sat there, its edges frayed and stained with graphite. Within those pages lived the creatures I drew—monsters with too many eyes and wings made of ink. I drew them to keep the world at bay, to give the formless weight on my chest a shape I could actually control.
I dressed quietly after she left, pulling on a faded hoodie that felt like armor. I could already feel the weight of the day pressing down on my shoulders, a physical gravity that made the walk to school feel like a mountain climb.
As I turned the double lock on the door, a thought I usually kept buried clawed its way to the surface. It was a dark, intrusive thing that tasted like copper.
*I've always wondered… if I wasn't here, where would my sister go?*
The thought trailed after me down the dimly lit hallway, a ghost I couldn't shake. If I vanished, she wouldn't just lose a brother. She’d lose the only person who knew how she liked her eggs, the only person who stayed until she fell asleep, the only bridge between her and a world that didn't care about a five-year-old’s dreams.
I stepped out into the morning air, and the sunlight felt far too bright.
Neighbors glanced as I walked past them, whispering about my broken life. Mrs. Fang (a 56 years old lady, the wife of Mr. Fang, who owns the big grocery in our town and always gives us vegetables whenever they see me, a random couple who suddenly became our guardian, our family..) She suddenly called my name. “Going to school Shinshin?” she ask as she grabs a lunch box from her bag. “ Yes Mrs. Fang” I answered with a smile. “Here boy, have this. It is my specialty, oh you'll love it!” She joyfully said to me, “Thank you Mrs. Fang” I said as I looked at her with joy. “Ah boy, I almost forgot” As she handed me money, “My husband wants me to give you this, a little help for you and your sister”, before I could speak, she shoved the money into my hand and told me to hurry so that I won't be late.
The first time Mrs. And Mr. Fang handed me that money, I felt guilty, having such large bills in my hand and the fact that I didn’t even earn it makes me think that I don't deserve it but knowing it would help me and my sister, I started to feel a bit relieved but guilt doesn't let me rest. The next day I saw Mrs. Fang, I immediately asked her if I could help them or work for them so the money would be a salary instead of a donation. I told her about how I felt after she gave me the money. She felt that I'm dedicated and sincere so she hired me as a part timer at their grocery store.
Growing up with Mrs. Fang and Mr. Fang guiding us, who cherished us. People that became our only family, became my hope, and my wheels, strangers that made me oppose to the 'stranger danger' thing. Strangers that pull out off the ocean, strangers who protect more than my family, should I be calling them strangers? No? . So as I walked past those people who whispers, who judged, I would only think about Mrs. And Mr Fang and Yumi, I promised to myself that I will keep living even if the world tries to break me into pieces to return the favor to Mrs. And Mr Fang…
