'Aura'

I can only guess how it ends, probably in the scrap yard, probably not anywhere in Taiping that I can name. But it's an act that’s necessary, the inevitable change. It has been cooking me during afternoon drives between both of my homes and errands. It’ll be easy, I think, to hand it over, place the keys into another man’s hand and then walk away.

Everything will seem like it has just happened yesterday . . .

I take the rear view mirror off--the part that loosens itself anytime the vehicle hits a bump or rough part of road nowadays and return it to where it had fallen.

I take the money back from the mechanic, and then he takes out the new battery from the car and puts it on the bicycle he came on. He goes on to reinstall the dead battery and closes the hood before cycling back to his house, backwards, a stone’s throw away from mine.

I turn on the air-conditioning and radio after realizing that the fuel meter is almost running empty.

I wipe the fogged window backwards, making it foggier because it is not as cold inside the car as it is outside. All the rain goes back up to the clouds; it gets drier and drier until all the rain has ascended to the sky.

I stare at the dent on my side of the car door. All the heated words exchanged between me and the man is backwards. I stare at him, at his motorbike, the fishing gear. He doesn’t seem to be hurt or have his ride damaged. I get back into my car. He proceeds to ram into my side of the vehicle as I’m reversing to the right, at the same time the car door is being bent back into shape. His tires screech, the sound backwards. I am watching him go backwards, away from me. My car goes into reverse at high speed. And then I pass him before turning back out into the main road. I head home, everything in reverse.

I watch as the smoke crawls back into the radiator, wondering where the radiator’s cap is. I close the hood of the car, and then I return to the car before the car jerks back into life.

I return to the car backwards, and drive out from home in reverse, pass the traffic light turning green and then red. I drive backwards pass the parsonage, the girls’ school, the prison. I drive it in reverse around the Lake Gardens--not knowing that it's a swan song in reverse. I drive back to where I got the car from in the first place and alight from it, in reverse, walk backwards to face the man who sold it to me and return him the keys.