It didn’t sound like much to others. But to Roger, it was everything.
A fresh start.
A stable income.
A future he could finally control.
Behind him now, Mang Tino followed slowly, his frail body leaning against a bamboo walking stick polished smooth by years of use. The old man had aged noticeably, his steps more careful, his breathing more measured. But his eyes remained sharp, quietly observant.
“You remember this turn?” Mang Tino asked, his voice low but steady.
Roger nodded without turning.
“This is where the truck got stuck,” he replied.
And just like that, the memory returned.
It had been raining that day.
The road was thick with mud, the kind that clung to tires and refused to let go. The small delivery truck carrying the piglets had struggled, its engine groaning loudly as it tried to climb the steep incline.
Then it stopped.
