Two of my friends have had their photos used by imposters to scam people on Facebook just recently. 

Friend #1 learned about her imposter when it tried to sell baby stuff on Facebook and her friend from another city saw the listing. The imposter's fake profile was reported and taken down before anyone could fall prey. 

As for Friend #2, it was already too late when she found out about it. She was getting virtually sucker-punched by angry and frustrated victims after realizing they had been duped into sending their hard-earned money for nothing. Her face was posted on different groups, labeled with the most demeaning words while the real perp got away with it.

Well, that's scary.

This is not the first time I've heard of it. It happens all the time and it could happen to anyone—especially us, ordinary people whose faces are not easily recognizable by a lot of people.

But you know what scares me more?

I still remember the last time I drew something. It was Valentine's Day four years ago when, like any other Valentine's, Jan and I had nothing better to do. It was a year before the pandemic but staying home was already a much better choice that day.

So Jan challenged me to draw something and I did.

The past few days had been quite a challenge because I was left alone to deal with two wild toddlers and a teen with raging puberty hormones. And as I watched them destroy the house while I slowly sipped my coffee, feet up, I had been thinking about how I will be rewarded for being great at maintaining a healthy marriage by allowing the husband to go on a three-day trip because I believed he needed to have some fun too.

I mean, Solen Heussaff gave Nico Bolzico no more than 24 hours to fly to Davao to hike Mt. Apo and back, while Jan was granted 3 freakin' days. How lucky can he get? I suppose he must have thought of rewarding me with something I truly deserve like an ultimate steak night date or a Vespa. The latter is mostly preferred, thank you.

And guess what?

I did not leave with a basket full of bright, colorful, and aesthetically pleasing stuff that are absolutely unnecessary. 

I could have done it, you know. The husband was a thousand miles away and no one else can dissuade me from buying whatever useless knickknack I fancy. All I have to do is swipe this little devil. 

I have been here for about an hour now. 

While I try to make out what is being broadcasted over the speakers because I can only hear muffled and distorted sounds as if the announcer is gargling the microphone, I have been watching people. 

And so it occurred to me that airports are a home to intensified emotions. Excitement. Anxiety. Happiness. Sadness. Optimism. Fear. Awe. Disappointment. Gratitude. And possibly any emotion that you can think of.