Sipping through the green plastic straw that was from the signature Starbucks tumbler, I made my way through the hustle and bustle of the Kuala Lumpur city center. Pacing my way to the office without any delay as I hated the fact of being late, even for a second, thus I chose to get there earlier by a moment.

The sweltering ball of heat peeked through the concrete forest, starting to reflect its heat off the glassy walls. Billowing smokes from the vehicles and industrial areas promulgated through the atmosphere, making the heart of the city came to life once again. A roborant sense beat through the vicinity.

I reached the office within my expected time, just slightly earlier than predicted, and started to bust my ass off as usual, carrying out the routine as usual, running errands without complaining too much but wearing a broad smile with me all the time. Lunch was brief, a sandwich with most of the necessary nutrients, resuming work promptly after. Clocked out at six in the evening sharp, rushed to the gym in order to avoid the congestion of humans in the journey back home. After an hour or so, I jogged back to my home.

As I was jogging back home, a basketball unintentionally bounced into my direction, a boy in his teens was chasing after it. I stopped, picked up the ball, “Would you like to join me for a few shots, uncle?” appalled, taken back by the age-defining term, I still nodded in assent.

My first few shots were way off as I had not touched a basketball for years. The teen zeroed in his focus in each of his shots, observed my shots when it was my turn, projecting what he would do in his head without commenting at my shots. When the ball was passed to me by him, “Uncle, you had been doing this jogging routine for about 5 years.”

“10 years.” I corrected him, monotonous.

“Sorry,” I took a shot and the ball cleanly bounced off the board into the teen’s direction, he was mildly impressed when he caught the ball. “So…” launching the ball into midair, “Are you happy with your job?” An awkward and random question.

The basketball went straight through the ring, I ran to get the ball. “Yeah.” I panted gently as I retrieved the ball, “I get enough for everything,” the teen looked at me curiously, “financially, I’m free.” an understatement, the teen nodded in understanding.

“Do you still have a dream?” I don’t really know. An intriguing question, I kept silent for a few shots. “I’m sorry if I…”

“A good question.” the teen stood singularly in the limelight of the moon. “I did, but…” we exchanged glances and understood the answer that I had.

“You conformed, right?”

“Yes.” I answered with a tinge of embarrassment, “You will too, like the rest of the society.”

“Perhaps.” he said nonchalantly, “See first.” A pang of nostalgia hit me like a train, he spoke like me when I was his age.

I returned the ball to him, “you will.”

Craving for more? Down below:
End Of The Line?
Ornaments
what we talk about when we talk about love by Raymond Carver (Book Review)
waiting for peach blossoms to bloom.
the quality of Being
shattered, tattered
be-lie-ve

 

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