Cheng Yun & Caspian


A ring rips through your car. I look at the back of the Nokia mobile phone you bought for my birthday last year, vibrating so violently beside the handbrake, before picking it up to see who’s calling. It’s you.

‘Hey-lo,’ you chirp, ‘I’m about to be done with work, so why don’t you come pick me up for our little date later?’

‘I still can’t believe your entire family’s still working on a public holiday.’ I huff. ‘I bet they wanted you to be ambitious like them and work till late tonight.’

‘You know how they are. Anyways, I’ll wait for you by the front entrance.’


‘See you.’

I let the pause linger before I end the call, to try and tease out any traces of your resentment towards me. I’ve been doing it ever since I got the results.

I found you hunched over, leaning by the taxi stand. I stood behind you. I laid my trembling fingers on your shoulder. And when you took my hand I was shocked by your gentleness. You looked at me, and I knew you were feeling my pain more than you felt yours.

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