Hiwagang Hapis

The sun had long set; in its place, the moon, half covered by darkness. It cast a dim light on the land, illuminating the path her brother took on the way home. He snuck out again, she noticed. His cot was empty, blankets thrown haphazardly in his haste to escape the hut; to another home he called Katipunan. But it was around this time that he'd come back, when the cicadas sang the loudest and the moon was sitting at the median of the night sky.

"Divina," Her head whipped to the direction of the voice, narrowed eyes searching for the source. Yet nothing was amiss. She was still alone in this room.

And so she returned to staring outside the window, sombre rum-stained orbs staring at a distance. Her brother never failed to come back; he always did.