A.M. 4:00

Just before the last star fades into the horizon and an almost stick-like ray of sun which is about to rise is seen, the nine year old Jonas is almost finished feeding the chickens and the four goats that his father brought from his brother a week ago. Jonas proceeded to tidy the vegetable garden of his mother before picking up some fruits from a nearby mango tree. He likes having ripe mangoes for breakfast, a bit peculiar his mother thought when she first saw him eating them, but Jonas won't have it otherwise. The fragrant and almost golden color of the ripened mangoes, carabao mangoes, that's what his father told him, breed of this savory fruit. Not too sweet, just enough. Many things go through his young mind everytime he's having breakfast alone, but he always had breakfast alone. Alone, since both of his parents died. These Mangoes are sweet indeed.