the bell in the bus was faulty. it kept sounding,although nobody was pressing it. it sounded haunting at first,but soon faded into the background,and people forgot about it. it faded into the background noise,into the incessent chatter of a chinese-speaking girl to her boyfriend; into the conversation of two indian men,into the hum of the aircon in the bus. outside,the rain wouldn't stop pouring,the rain trickled down in streams down the bus window panes. i took out falling woman,tried to read a few lines,and gave up. it was dark,chilly,such that the streets of tampines doesn't look like itself on a normal day,but resembled more of something straight out of a superhero movie-like that of batman,or daredevil. the bus turned a corner,and came into the round wet-market where lights of red,blue,green,yellow were hung up high in the trees. the lights hung there awkwardly, reluctantly; the decorations were for chinese new year,but at that moment,right then, it looked out of place, it didn't belong. the bus continued moving, the chinese-speaking girl continued talking animatedly to her boyfriend,the hum of the aircon continued. the rain didnt stop,only slowing to a drizzle as i alighted. the bus moved on,continuing to pick up passengers with their boyfriends,with their friends;with the aircon still humming-and the bell still sounding.
icy fingers playing piano on my skin - 11:55 PM
grace chen
14 october 86
ntu
communication studies
long bus-rides
thinking of the what-ifs
the occasional alcohol
music