XXXVIII | Thought

❦

Rowan follows me like a ghost
as I stroll around the hawker centre.

Why does she care so much?

He was old.

He would have died
eventually.

I buy her a meal.

She eats without really looking.

Then,
does she worry about me?

We're in the bus again
when I tell her

'He wanted to die,
'isn't this good?'

The expressionless look
on her expressionless face

tells me it's not good.

'He didn't die of old age,' she says.

'How you know?
'The nurse didn't say.'

'The nurse can't say.
'We're not his family.'

A pause.

'I didn't believe it
'when Nya-Nya told me.'

Her fists turn white again.

I shift in my seat.

'He's in a better place now,'
I say without thinking.

Again,
an expressionless expression
that tells me

I'm wrong.

'Your life
'doesn't belong to you.

'Whether you live or die
'isn't a choice for you to make.'

That makes no sense.

The bus goes over a bump.
Seats creak.
The bell is pressed.

'Why not? It's your own life.'

Street lights
flicker on
one by one by one.

It's getting late.

I'm tired
from the unexpected excursion.

I want to do something fun.

'Your life doesn't belong to you,'
she says firmly.

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