Rumors, rumors, rumors.
Rumor that the convoy has arrived. Rumor that a Negro Army has landed in Batangas. Rumor that the USAFFE has reached Pampanga. Rumor that the USAFFE is using a secret ray that blinds the enemy. Rumor that Japanese officers, leaving for Bataan, shed tears because they know they’ll never come back alive. Rumor that President Manuel Quezon is dying. Rumor that a Japanese general committed harakiri. Rumor that Russian planes have bombed Tokyo.
Rumors, rumors, rumors.
This is not rumor: I have resigned.
This, too, is not rumor. My resignation was not accepted.
A friend said. “Miss So-and-so who is seventy years old will marry Mr. None-of-your-business who is seventy-five already.”
Commented a third: “Eso es RUMOR.”
Countered back the other: “No, eso es AMOR.”
Said my friend: “Eso es HUMOR.”
I wish I had said that. Oh well…