Dragonstone Tablet

The heat shimmered off the cracked pavement as I shuffled towards the bus stop, wiping the sweat stinging my eyes. My air-conditioned office suddenly felt like a distant dream. The jeepney that had just sputtered past had been the last one for the next hour, leaving me stranded under the unforgiving midday sun.

"Rough day?"

A gruff voice startled me. I looked up to see an old man, probably in his late sixties, perched on a rickety wooden bench beside the stop. His hair was a halo of white, his face creased with a lifetime of smiles and squints. He wore a faded camouflage baseball cap that seemed perpetually tilted over one eye.

"Yeah," I sighed, muttering something about missing the bus. "Looks like I'm stuck here for a while."

"Patience, son," the old man chuckled, his voice surprisingly warm. "The jeepneys always come eventually. Name's Fred by the way."

"Gervic," I replied, extending a hand. "But Gerv is fine."

Fred's handshake was firm, his calloused fingers were proofs to years of hard work. We sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the distant rumble of traffic and the cicadas singing their relentless song. It was the kind of comfortable silence that only comes from shared experience, a silent understanding that the wait would eventually end.

"You from around here?" Fred finally asked, his voice breaking the comfortable lull.

"Nope," I admitted. "Just moved here for a new job. City boy trying to adjust to the island life."

"Ah, that explains the impatience then," Fred said with a sly grin. "Island time runs a little slower, you'll see."

We talked for what felt like minutes, but must have been closer to an hour, about everything and nothing. Fred told me stories of his life on the island, of raising his family here, of the slow and steady rhythm of life far away from the city's frantic pace. I, in turn, shared my anxieties about fitting in, about the challenges of starting over in a new place.

Before I knew it, the rumble of an approaching engine broke the comfortable silence. The beat-up jeepney screeched to a halt, a plume of black smoke billowing from its tailpipe.

"This your ride?" Fred asked, already rising from the bench.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Well, welcome to the island life, Gerv," Fred said, a twinkle in his eye. "And hey, if you ever get stuck waiting again, you know where to find an old man with bad jokes."

I grinned. "Thanks, Fred. Maybe I'll take you up on that offer sometime."

As I clambered into the crowded jeepney, I stole a glance back at the bus stop. Fred was gone, but a strange sense of warmth settled over me. In that unexpected conversation, I realized I might have just found an unlikely friend – a reminder that sometimes, the best connections are made in the most unexpected places. The frenetic energy of the city had always left me feeling isolated, a cog in a giant machine. But here, in the slow and easy pace of the island, under the watchful gaze of a complete stranger, I had found a sense of belonging I hadn't known I was searching for. It felt like a seed had been sown, a seed of friendship that I hoped would continue to grow under the warm Philippine sun.