Love in the time of grades First Semester

The scent of damp earth and pine trees, a signature of Baguio, clung to my clothes as I finally stepped off the bus. Four hours on the road from Nueva Vizcaya, watching the world blur past – mountains, rivers, the vast Ambuklao Dam – had left me both weary and exhilarated. My new chapter, university life, was finally here.

My apartment, a small studio on the second floor of a building in KM 5, La Trinidad, was a haven my mom had meticulously prepared. Keys in hand, I let myself in, greeted by the comforting sight of a stocked fridge and a tiny kitchen already equipped with everything I'd need. Bless you, Mom. With time to spare before sunset, I decided to explore.

The campus was a mere five-minute walk, and the open gate beckoned. Lost in thought, soaking in the vibrant energy of my new surroundings, I wasn't watching where I was going. A sudden, jarring impact sent me sprawling to the sidewalk. The other person, surprisingly sturdy, didn't even flinch, let alone apologize. "Well, this is awkward," I muttered, dusting myself off. "Time to head home."

Dinner was a quick stop at a fast-food joint, a quiet meal before the real adventure began. The next morning, my alarm blared at 5:30 AM. First day of university. After a quick shower and a breakfast of leftover 'pinikpikan' – a highland delicacy my mom had left – I dressed carefully: blue denim, a white shirt, and a bright yellow polo. "Good choice, Junno," I told my reflection, a confident smile spreading across my face. I grabbed my phone, wallet, and keys, ready to conquer the day.