'Love Trails'

You must be asleep now.

Let me recount what had happened since I punched out at the clock. For work, as we know it - is a loveless matter better left at the door, when you leave.

I escaped the restaurant scene (read: congregations of elder-elite penangites were long seated, almost creeper-like, nourishing themselves with the locale-made cups of tea, fifty cent iced drinks and strange smelling smokes. An omnipresent scene presented itself: posses relate their fixation which is the radioactive screen-box hung dangerously from above. In between their sips and breathing, I have a rough narrative of the onscreen drama: it functions to confirm my comprehension. Usually it does.) at seven plus, realising that sweat from eating spicy and hot foods had plastered my drab shirt to the back of my skin. It was a good few minutes of discomfort.

I walked into the streets where distractions were in the form of strewn red lanterns, set nine to ten feet above ground, from where I was, to the end of the perspective. Once, the same place had me seeing fireworks set to the canvas night sky.

A celebration is coming.

I laughed when you told me that you only had clothes in black for this, as I recall being taken once to a corner as a youngling and given stern advise, a somewhat rebuke you might call it - for a disrespect misunderstood as mine. My original intent was, that 'twas cool. I never again wore dark fashionable colors for Chinese New Year. My advise: get red, which you have already planned to; which is good.

The trip here was as mundane as the act of brushing teeth, with no accidents. I managed to be one of the first to get on the bus, plunk myself next to a window seat and people watch; all the while with a level eight music background which served double as a soundtrack to my post work evenings and inducer for an endless stream of stray thoughts. I have two this week: soundtracks, not stray thoughts. Call it an observation forced only by boredom; an escapism from being in a motionless bus and the gravity of self-inactivity, as I'd notice a kid squinting (or grimacing; his features aren't pronounced yet) a short brain-freeze from licking a sundae too long and be completely in the same frame for about fifteen minutes; shifting only to ease an itch or blood accumulation / lack thereof. I'd think of you, grimacing a brain-freeze, and I'd smile.

A few hours from now, when you're awake, I'd be looking up at the sky, not minding that only a handful of stars can be seen. We'd be talking over the phone, in my apartment's parking lot.

Wouldn't we?

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