"Nat, thanks for today," said by Greg Bersabe, a fifty-three-year-old man that's my boss for today. Currently, I am here in his place because two days ago he contacted me to go here.
My name is Nathan Skye. In this small town that I lived in, the Purrbeau Village, people usually contact me if they want a laborer. I am an undergrad high school student who had been exposed early to what they call adult obligations. Since we-- that includes my younger sister and brother-- do not anymore get any financial support from my parents because they passed away when I was 11, I sacrificed my ambition to be a doctor and entered rough jobs just to feed my sister and brother.
"Thanks, Greg!" I replied. "Your front house landscape design is cool!"
The reason why he contacted me is because of that. He told me he wanted a new landscape on his front house. By following the design he sketched, the outcome was lovely as expected.
"Don't be biased, Nat. All that became possible because of you," he said as he tapped my right shoulder. He added, "Is the money enough?"
"Yes, Greg," I replied. My whole day of being a laborer to him has paid me 600 pesos. Just really enough if you are making ends meet, but what about if you are dreaming of a bigger future for your siblings? You can't save much with 600.
Before I finally left his residence, I and Greg spent another while talking wherein he told me that next week would be his birthday. I am invited. But although I hate declining kindness, spending time on such things is really at the bottom of my priorities. I told him I had work on that day which is true because someone already saved that date for me to get paid. Having understood my situation, Greg told me that my siblings were so lucky to have me as their older brother.
On my way home where I just decided to walk to save, the cold air of December is what appears to be accompanying me. It had a wonderful chilling touch that I couldn't help but be drowned in the depths of my thinking.
Today is my parents' death anniversary. This day also, from ten years ago, is what made me realize that I need to grow up faster. My younger siblings need me as their older brother. And I can't do that if I still play games with my cohorts. So, instead of spending time in such leisure, whenever I saw someone doing rough jobs in the neighborhood, I always went there and watched how things were done. By fifteen, I decided to quit high school and started finding ways to earn money. But at age nineteen, I realized something. If I want a bigger future for my siblings, I must enroll them in college. With my job as just a laborer, saving as many pesos as possible is vital. I need to be thrifty and wise all the time. No drinking, no smoking, and no girls.
After almost more than a minute indulging myself to listening my thoughts, I halted my pace when I saw a brown envelope idling on the sidewalk.
Judging by its sight, I can tell that the envelope is still unopened. The tongue where you use to open it is free from marks and folds. The envelope has a size similar to the one that carries a letter being delivered by a mailman. But this being brown and not white: another thing that got me curious.
What this envelope is? Who owns it? These two questions would be left unanswered unless I will not pick it up.
And so I did.
I took another step to close the distance between me and the envelope. Then, I slouched to pick it up. Once I had my hands on it, I flipped the mysterious thing.
Just what I thought the envelope has the details on the back. Written in a wavy text using a black ball pen, I started reading every line... and I can't help but furrow my forehead.
Currently seeing on the envelope are the basic details of who sent the letter. The name, the address, and its zip code. Aside from that-- and the one that got me wondering about-- is the basic details of who should receive the letter. The receiver has the same name as mine, with the address and the zip code also the same as mine.
Now, the cold wind that I enjoyed recently seemed to have been polluted without me noticing. Now its embrace somewhat makes me feel uncomfortable. Confusion is what spiraling in my thoughts. I am just a laborer-- and not to mention a high school undergrad-- but why would he give me this envelope?
In this month of December, news about this certain advancement in science and technology did not fail to be delivered every single day. It said that Mindrey Incorporated will have its ambitious Mindrey Gear to be finally out in the market after fifteen years of development. It has the objective to fully give you a new world with a feeling similar to reality when you just place this particular device on your head.
What I mean to point out is that the sender of this envelope addressed to me is none other than the president of Mindrey Incorporated. Mr. Rey Vallera. What does he want and why me of all people? Now, what inside the envelope has got me curious.
From once slouching, I fixed my stand. I heaved a deep sigh before proceeding to open the mysterious thing. I extracted from the inside a piece of white paper that had been folded several times. I unfolded it and wasted no seconds before reading it.
Dear Mr. Skye,
After a thorough search for possible public demonstrators to our highly-anticipated Mindrey Gear, we are happy to say that one of them is you. You possess a unique personality that will drive the Mindrey Gear to its best presentation. Hopefully, you have heard about us and what we are planning as a big leap towards the future. If you are interested, attached on the letter are my contact details. If not, please refer someone to be in your stead. Hopefully, we can see you, though.
President of Mindrey,
Rey Vallera.
I let a long exhalation as I fold back the letter. This invitation is really an honor not just to me but also to everyone who will receive this. However, I already threw away the 'play' thing of my life a long time ago.
I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Rey. But I am already busy earning money for my two siblings.