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Sean, making coffee at 6 am, says, "It's 2-22-2022 today." He pours hot water onto the ground Kulaman coffee beans, nestled in white filter paper. Black water, fragrant and stimulating, drips into the Hario glass container, and stops when the level reaches 300 mL. The coffee is for me and Manong Ralph. This is our breakfast. We forgo morning meals to lose weight. Breakfast is easier to let go than, say, a scrumptious dinner.

Meanwhile, Paul snuggles on the white couch in the living room. He is forbidden—at least, he was, a few days ago, when his nails were pointed and could potentially damage the furniture. It is a cold morning; our dog does not want to wake up yet. Why is he so tired when he should already be up and out, demanding belly rubs and licking our feet to gain attention? Did he destroy Nanay's flowers last night? Did he chew the leaves off the most treasured plants in the garden? We will never know until Nanay makes her rounds in a few minutes. She will rebuke Paul then forgive him at the same time. 

Sean calls out to Paul, whose ears come alive. Sean feeds him a morsel of food. Paul runs toward him, waggling his tail. Sean leaves for work, and Paul returns to bed.

The Hiligaynon word for the day is tuyó, which means drowsiness.


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