I watched with intrigue his trembling hands, scooping up mouthfuls of chicken rice with a plastic, weak spoon. Bits of chicken and grains of rice fell off, time after time. There was a slight struggle, but he didn’t seem to be particularly affected and carried on persistently. I however, kept my gaze – it seemed like I was intruding into a personal space.
Just directly opposite I repeat the same observation on another subject. This time round I caught him staring back with bloodshot eyes, so I averted my gaze quickly. Then my attention went back to a conversation between the chicken rice stall owner and a jolly customer directly in front of me, who was particularly particular about whichever part of the chicken he was going to consume. Yea, yea. “A packet of Chicken Rice for takeaway” was all I said. The boy behind echoed my decision. Seems like I’m not the only one not doing hmm, justice to the stall.
Some thoughts – off-day today again, hopefully it’ll be the last one this term.
How will I be like when I age? Will I not be able to sing and chatter then…?
I guess it always boils down to the same old dilemma: the urge to grow up as quickly as I can – to do all the ‘adult’ things – to love, to accomplish to mature, to leave a mark. Then the fear of wilting sits in: the gradual decline would be fearsome. The feeling of “not as _____ as before” would be frustrating.
I have, and will always be scared, I guess. How will one ever be fully prepared for the close?
I’m only human. (ha)