That afternoon, she walks into the house for the first time. It's dim. The ceiling light shone weakly. A thick curtain covered the window. "Good afternoon", they exchanged greetings. She saw a mahjong table in the center of the room. Books, papers, folders, a pencil case covered the green table. Instinctively, she walked over and took a seat beside her student. Question after question of mathematics filled the stale afternoon air. "Do you understand?" "Yes, I do", the student always replies, albeit with a blank expression. That blank expression that fills the face of the dazed, the uninterested, the blur. The mother puts on a surgical mask and gloves and begins wiping down the room. Every spot is kissed by the cloth gently. No area is missed. It's strange. A musky scent filled the house, the corners are dark, the walls black with years of neglect, the sofa peeling from mistreatment. Yet, the mother is prideful in her job that afternoon.
More than a year ago at Holland Village. When all there was between us were friendships. Now all that is left are cracks, divisions, hatred, awkwardness and scars. I was snooping around my computer, clearing unwanted photos to free up some memory space. Stumbled upon this set of photos. It was a gathering at Crystal Jade Xiao Long Bao buffet. Walking along Holland Road at 1am to Sixth Avenue (or somewhere near). Oh it was such a good outing. Joy, laughter, freedom. There was no bad history between anybody. Who knew one year later the friendship would become so divided. There are people who won't talk to others. Unspoken resentments. Divided camps. I guess this is what happens when you get to know people, relationships develop and crumble, and when you realize people aren't really who you thought they were. Maybe it's part of growing up. Life can't be a bed of roses. Not everybody's nature is to be kind. Learn to discern. Rude Awakening. Seriou...
Comments