I ordered Jollibee breakfast joys for everybody, although there was nothing joyful about the occasion. We had no sleep and didn't feel like it, but we had to eat. It was the morning after the first night you were killed. You had just been set-up so everyone can pay their last respects. I got to my food after finishing some phone calls to priest and lawyer friends. We had to say mass, I had to know what to do and how to communicate with the police. I also had to update your mom. I had to try to be methodical and bussinesslike to prevent misstep, so that I would not fall into a despair. Later, I got to my cold food, the grease on the meat coagulating and the fried egg already limp and rubbery. I had to choke it down with bitter coffee but the clammy feeling won't wash off. I wanted to hurl it out my gut and hurl the uneaten portions onto the wall. To this day, I can never eat another Jollibee corned beef meal ever again.