Photo credit: C K Tse
“I had the blues because I had no shoes until upon the street, I met a man who had no feet.”
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We’ve all had rough times in our lives. One of mine happened when I freshly graduated from college (at the age of 29). It was barely a few months after my mom’s passing, I was broke, wrestled with relationship turbulence, and had a hard time making sense of my career change after fifty unanswered job applications.
Finally, I’ve gotten around to continuing this personal recount. Read part one here.
***
The phone rang, and I would sooner chew on broken glass than pick up the call. Cindy rarely called anymore, so when her name registered on the screen, I was sure that having a serious talk would be an understatement. I answered the phone.
“What the fuck, is that bitch, doing sitting on your lap.” It wasn’t a question. Also, there’s something about broken sentences that amplifies the perception of anger, especially when coupled with a seething calm.
“What lap? What are you talking about? We’re just friends!” I said in a tone somewhere between a comforting snigger and a cry for help.
“Don’t lie to me. And what the fuck, are you doing, hugging her.”
“Okay, fine. Fine. Babe, we need to talk.”
Foreword: While I typically blog about true accounts of my life, this piece is more fiction than reality. Some situations are drawn from personal experience, but are very loosely based on actual events. Don’t mind me, I’m just easing my way into short story and fiction writing.
***
“Sometimes love just isn’t enough.”
I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. The late nights wondering what time she’d come home, that same BMW X5 always dropping her off a few doors down, the increasing frequency of plans with her ‘secondary school friends’, and her sudden keeping me at arm’s length. I felt like I ordered a breakup package and that the delivery was due.
This is the first time ever I’ve ever posted a first draft. Happy Valentine’s.
***
She was walking down the path with her head down. In a place like this, time was insubstantial, physical boundaries were a dream, and all that mattered was the presence of another person sharing your space.
He saw her from afar, noticing her light brown hair that he always liked on a woman. He walked up to her from behind and spoke to her with wavered confidence.
“Hi … ” His eyes were beaded with awe of her presence, his dilated pupils betrayed his feigned casualness. “What’s a girl like you doing here?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at him and smiled.
“Wanna walk with me?” he said.
“Sure.”
Your Friendly Malaysian Writer 