The apartment is a cool twenty-two degrees Celcius. The hum and huff of air cons the only sounds so far. I slide my feet into FitFlops and grab my school bag. It takes me a minute to rummage through my school stuff. My fingers find the front zipped pocket of my day pack. I unzip and pull out the wristlet that has key cards and my bus pass in it.
Bus pass in hand, I step into the hallway and carefully close the iron gate so it doesn't make a sound. The hallway heat hits as I wait for the lift. In my condo, hallways are not air-conditioned nor are bathrooms or kitchens. Air con is its own story here on the equator. The lift is quick. I exit right and press the wall switch to unlock the building door. I step outside.
The morning mugs me. Still air. Smoke hangs in the humidity. I can almost see it in the beams of the streetlights.
Something somewhere is burning: palm crops in Indonesia perhaps.
It's been a heavy week here in Singapore.
I turn right out of my condo and walk toward the corner. The Esso station shines at the corner--neon and fluorescent light washing the cement sidewalk, I take a short-cut through the parking lot. My steps skirt the entrance and soon I'm walking out the otherside. I look up to check the street for the bus and hear, "Good morning!"
A worker stands smoking in the exit drive. He smiles and nods. Strangers on the street here rarely speak to one another. It was a cultural shift for me (and not one that I adopted). I return his greeting and it's not but a few seconds later when an Auntie sings out, "Morning!"
Oh! God winks.
My heart lifts. My steps lighten. The bus arrives. Still savoring the sweet morning moment, I step up.
I turn right out of my condo and walk toward the corner. The Esso station shines at the corner--neon and fluorescent light washing the cement sidewalk, I take a short-cut through the parking lot. My steps skirt the entrance and soon I'm walking out the otherside. I look up to check the street for the bus and hear, "Good morning!"
A worker stands smoking in the exit drive. He smiles and nods. Strangers on the street here rarely speak to one another. It was a cultural shift for me (and not one that I adopted). I return his greeting and it's not but a few seconds later when an Auntie sings out, "Morning!"
Oh! God winks.
My heart lifts. My steps lighten. The bus arrives. Still savoring the sweet morning moment, I step up.
What a neat slice - I feel instantly transported to that hot, steamy day in Singapore. How I wish I was more adventurous to travel to far away countries!
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