My dear readers, I believe my own personal form of tragedy struck last Saturday.

A classmate from grad school turned out to be one of those few people who fancy basically the same literary options as I do.  He kept mentioning this book that I just must read.  He insisted so much that he was willing to part with his copy temporarily.

I decided to end my curiosity last Saturday when I headed over to National Bookstore Mall of Asia on my way home to Las Piñas.  I walked in, two-strapping my backpack, my phone and wallet in one hand, a bag of cotton buds for my mother in the other.

I walked to Customer Service and had them look for that book.  Tea Obreht’s The Tiger’s Wife.  Personnel immediately radioed another staffer to look for a copy around the store.  In an effort to not look like a prick, I wandered around fiction and literary winners section for another book to add to my list.

I think I need to reread Jane Austen’s something.  Oooh, George Orwell.  I don’t get the buzz for Jessica Zafra.  IT’S MY FAVORITE BOOK!  Yay for Arlene Chai!  I wonder if they have Fight Club here…

Random thoughts kept spilling in and out of my head, and I didn’t notice the time.  The service personnel gave me The Tiger’s Wife and as I grabbed a copy of Persuasion, I noticed I only had my phone in my hand.  No wallet.

The next 40 minutes consisted of me peering over CCTV footage, filing complaints in Uniqlo, Forever21, Zara and National Bookstore, but as time droned by I had to accept the inevitable:  my wallet is never coming back to me.

I had to return the books I had in my hand.  It was the last copy of The Tiger’s Wife.  My father was waiting for me outside; at least I didn’t have to worry about my ride home.  And I was drowning in an overwhelming sense of calmness.

That sense has finally subsided when I woke up to get to work this morning.

Farewell, my safari printed Liz Claiborne wallet.  I know I’ve constantly complained about replacing you, but really you were precious.  You housed my photos, government IDs and cash and credit cards.  You housed my identity.  Never did I think that I’d lose you in a sea of books.  But then, that’s really the best way to lose any material possession.  However far away, I know for a fact that you will always be with me.

Because no bitch or whore would ever dare to steal my name.  If they know what’s good for them.

I miss you already. </3