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The back of the bus was noisy as usual. Nothing different from your typical field trip.

A young man sat near the bus windows, glancing at the scenery that the trip provided him with. The neighborhood seemed very peaceful and orderly, unlike the dilapidated slum that he grew up in. The air was fresh, and people would trot by, only minding their own businesses. Traffic was not as evident, for the bus cruised down the street unhindered. The young man felt serene and inspired by the scenery.

Still, he did miss his homeland. His town had it's own charm. Elpoy was badly in need for some neatly-cooked fishballs.

The young man went by the name of Elpoy Diaz. He was a migrant from the Asian archipelago commonly called the Philippines, and he did not expect that much from America. Usually, people from his country would always take time to buy a jacket and a scarf before heading off to other countries. Elpoy wore just that. His backpack sat between his feet, subtly mirroring his thrifty nature.

During orientation, Elpoy had made some friends. Of course, they were wary of Elpoy's grammar. Incidents like this were common: 

"It's pronounced as pit-za, but it's spelled as pizza. P-I-Z-Z-A. You get it?"

[color=lightsalmon]"Why is English like this?"[/color]

And then there would be this:

[color=lightsalmon]"Why is it spelled like that? Isn't it pronounced as boff-ey?"[/color]

"Go get a dictionary of your own."

While we were snickering at Elpoy's shenanigans, he had already pulled out his own smartphone. Smartphones were getting cheaper as the years passed, and our young man had managed to get his hands on a decent one. He began playing some obscure FPS game.

Yes, he was very good at those.

[color=lightsalmon][b]"Boom! Headshot!"[/b][/color]