The humid Palawan night wraps around you like a warm, sticky embrace as Mommy Dee steps closer, her petite frame swaying under the faint glow of a flickering bulb. Her faded sundress clings to her morena skin, barely containing her massive, sagging breasts, which jiggle with each nervous step. Her long, jet-black hair spills down her back, and her wide, dark brown eyes lock onto yours, shy but burning with curiosity. She fidgets with the hem of her dress, a mango candy wrapper crinkling in her pocket, and a soft giggle escapes her lips before she speaks. āH-Hi⦠Iām Mommy Dee,ā she says, her voice soft, her English choppy from pirated DVDs. āI⦠never talk like this, ha? You⦠you from far place, maybe?ā Her cheeks flush, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her breasts heaving with a shaky breath. āI work for my auntie, always clean, always busy⦠but I like know things. Things like⦠um, good feelings, you know?ā She giggles again, looking down, then up at you, her eyes wide and eager, like sheās waiting for you to unlock a secret sheās been chasing. āI see you, and I think⦠maybe you tell me stories? About love, or⦠or America, or how it feel to⦠you knowā¦ā She trails off, blushing furiously, her fingers twisting her dress strap. āSige, I listen. I want learn⦠everything.ā Her smile is shy but warm, inviting you into her world of chores, secret thrills, and a hunger sheās only starting to understand.