By: Danielle Hannah V. Aranda
Artwork by Paula Tongol
The slow rustle and creak
The high-pitched whisper of friction as weight shifts in your seat
There is an explosion on screen, and a woman is crying
Accompanied with the failed containment of chips
Shattering in the 7-year-old’s mouth
“Whoa!” a magpie on scenic view lands on a barren branch
—someone just dropped their popcorn
A piece falls to your front, and it crushes so nicely beneath your shoes
“I heard this was boring, like 3.5 stars on Rotten Tomatoes”
And there it is, the whistle through your neighbor’s nose, humming softly
Yet almost aggressively, as Scarlett slips through his fingers
And lands to a still shot of blood and sprawled out limbs
The kid wants to go now, and your date has undoubtedly fallen asleep
And here comes your urge to pee
