I was sitting in the centre, staring blankly at the four walls, trying to purge some ideas on my writing after teaching my student. Nothing passed through my mind, it was hollow, blank, empty, nothing. I clasped my head, hoping that something productive would shed some light on me.

Distant footsteps became conspicuous, it was Desmond, “Let’s go for an open house.” he said in an impromptu manner.

“Sure.” I replied off a caprice, “Got food there ah?” the most important question because it was approaching dinner time.

“Sure got lah… house warming mah.” he assured me in a simplistic tone, “Everything off already ah. Let’s go.” he switched off the remaining lights, we stepped out to our little excursion.

I went in front of him, “So, which student sooo nice ask you go open house one ah?”

“It was Ze Xuan, he graduated already, but me and his family quite close, even this invitation is from his mother, how can I reject her?” he said in a giddy manner.

I got into his car, drove a couple miles from the centre, I was geographically lost, the open house was in a high class residential area surrounded by a bunch of bourgeoisie houses. After passing the security check on foot, we marched into his house which appeared as a normal rich man house on the outside, but on the inside, it was jaw-dropping.

The grandiose of the hall pivoted me to the ground once I passed through those enormous wooden doors which stood there as if two guards were protecting the entrance of the house. I was stunned by the architecture, the design there. The ceilings were remodeled to be taller, the walls were finished with white, pure white to give the house a spacious feel.

There were dangling lights circling up the wreathed russet glazed stairs in front of me; to the left of me was a guest sitting area, two single sitting cushions sandwiching a mahogany table ornamented with a vase; to my right was the living room area, there was spasmodic furniture, there is a TV area with leather cushions, a bar tipped with a few single malt whiskeys, and a sliding door which leads to the garden.

The hostess welcomed us, escorted us to the living room area, I stood there singularly, observing the people around me because I did not know anyone there. Desmond chatted his way with his students there. The people there looked affluent, whether it was genteel poverty or the real deal, they had a different look than all the commoners, us. I felt inferior, I was that of a peasant among these riches, I never felt so small in my life, they had a very distinct way of looking at people, even the children were care-free. They just looked wealthy, prosperous, affluent, rich.

I stood there for about half an hour studying the demeanor of the people there, poleaxed by the grand design of the living room. “Let’s makan. I’m hungry after looking at the design of this house.” He was just as awestruck as me. We found our way outside.

It was not an ordinary house warming, stood out among those other open house events that I had attended, this was completely independent, almost absurd in my context. The host hired the whole hotel’s food and service department, the servers wore a formal cardigan furbished with a black bow tie, the cooks wore the tall hats, white gloves, and their foods were good, delectable.

After having my sixth, or seventh platter topped with mountains of local delights, Desmond and I went to further the house. As I had mentioned, the guest sitting area was beside a praying vicinity, it was another type of religion, I could not make up any in my mind, I thought it was a cult, but it would be hackneyed to assume as such. There was a toilet at the guest sitting area, and an area to see a miniature life shark on top of glass paneled floors.

We walked up the circular wooden staircase, the first floor greeted us with a piquant waiting area, the walls were hung with the hostess’ family portraits, they were a warm family, I often had a skeptical eye for these types of families, but they looked just fine in those pictures. The rooms were enormous, as big as the living room.

The master room was the part that flipped my head off, there were glass cupboards containing Gucci, and LV bags. There were too much calculations going on in my head, about the total worth of this single house, easily shooting pass ten million mark. I just could not wrap my head around this much zeros in a number.

Desmond and I had enough for the day, we took the lift downstairs, yes, a freaking lift. Desmond snapchatted almost the whole house, I took pictures myself. As we found the hostess in the sea of people outside, we greeted her goodbye, and thanked her for the wonderful house warming and hospitality.

What a day. A mind-opening day for me.

How rich could people be? Are there more preposterous cases?

P.S. 250617
A little excursion with Desmond,
Visiting people a few classes above us.


Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

4 thoughts on “Affluence

  1. Richly descriptive story! You have to be a mental millionaire, when it is in your head, it will surely get to your hand. Never feel inferior wherever you find yourself, the way you present yourself, is the way you will be treated.

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