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He rushed up the escalator and entered the cafe hastily. He did a quick scan and found her, facing away from him, on the table at the far end corner, exactly where he expected her to be. He checked his reflection in the mirror, satisfied that there is no indication of any recent excessive cardio movement had been done; he took slow strides towards what was used to be their table.

He ensured that his steps are quiet as he got closer to her.

“Don’t think about it,” she said. He rolled his eyes and plopped down on the seat in front of her. She chuckled and called the waiter. He ordered his usual coffee seeing that she had opted her usual as well.

Then it was silence. She didn’t say a word and had her eyes fixed on a frame. He followed her gaze and snorted, of course she would stare at that scribbles. He remembered how five years ago she wrote him a love story on the napkin and he had forgotten it. The café owner found the napkin and fell in love with it. He had it frame and hung it up right next to the entrance of the toilet. A highly inappropriate place for a love story so she would often joke maybe the story reminds the owner of crap.

“I wonder if the owner would let me have it back,” she said.

“Do you want me to ask?” he offered. “No. It’s stupid,” she replied.

The waiter came and placed his coffee in front of him and a cheesecake for her. She took a bite and pushed the plate towards him. He smiled his crooked smile and took a bite of it.

“You haven’t changed that much. It has been what, 7 months?”

This time it was her that snorted. “You shouldn’t listen to rumors. You know better than that. Besides, I’m still that perfect angel everyone wants me to be,” she said while drawing a halo using her fingers. He quirked an eyebrow at her, she was right, he knew better. “Bullshit,”

“Alright, I might’ve gone a little trip down the dark side. They have divine cookies and I had had my fun. The prodigal daughter hath return,”

“Well you were never the one that follows logic or earthly reasons. Stubborn and rebellious that you are,” he leaned his back on the chair and looked at her. Her hair had grown out from that unfortunate day of breakdown. He remembered how everyone was worried when she went missing for two days, only to come back with a haircut and a tan. He shook his head, trying to get the hollow image of her out of his head. He muttered an observation to her “your hair is longer,”

“No shit Sherlock,” she said. He fiddled with the idea to keep her reeling, just for the heck of it, when he noticed her eyes. Those brown eyes are now muddy, dark and some other adjective that he can’t seem to place to describe it. He realized what he is doing now wrong.

He tried making the conversation light and steering the conversation away from certain subjects. He was glad that she was being herself; making lame jokes and sometimes would space out a little, nothing a kick in the shin won’t fix. He relished every death glare that he earned from each kick; well that part certainly has not change.

An hour past of their caustic comments and witty banter, when his phone started to vibrate like crazy in his jeans pocket.

I need you.

His face turns into a grimace and when he looked at her, he knew that she knew who texted 

him. “I’ve got to go,” he simply state. She looked away from him and tugging at the hem of her shirt. She tucked her hair behind her ears and slightly nodded.

“Happy what-it-might’ve-been the seventh year,” she whispered. He heard it anyways. He got up and placed the envelope in front of her. He then left the café. Again, leaving her behind.

PS: I'm trying really hard to finish the story, so pull out that stick up your ass k. Sabar. Relax. Sooner or later I'll finish the damn story. For now enjoy this short one.

Athirah

I miss her.

It was fun really. Getting home, with her waiting on the steps with a badminton racket in one hand, forcing me to play regardless of my kebaya. Her big toothy smile, screaming "selamat pulang!" when she saw my figure walking back. 

Being parental by ensuring she ate her veggies and me in turn had to eat it too coz she would surely refuse if I don't. Saying no for nuggets in the middle of the night, even though I was craving it too and had to put up with her tantrums. Forcing myself to drink white milk because if I didn't, she won't take hers. It was a pain in the ass but I miss that.

Making sure she finally figure out that A is A and not C. Giving reminders that 7 is before 8. Checking her tajwid when she recites surahs. Telling her its ok that she couldn't figure out words or when she was stress that she cant do her homework. 

I miss her. I miss her. Telling her stories before she goes to sleep. Her waking me up in the middle of the night to go to the loo. I miss her pretending to pray together with me. I really miss her waking me up on weekends and have walks on the beach together. Sigh.

Min has been telling me to get a kid. But Min kedekut, tengah mengandung, tapi tak nak bagi baby dia. Dahla she'll be leaving soon. Stupid hubby, with some fancy job. Taking Min away. (I'm sorry I call you stupid Lan, tengah emo)

Can I have just one person, ONE, that is mine and won't leave?

Morning Sayang.

The sound of the construction next door woke her up. She rolled on her back, staring at the ceiling fan that was there just for show ever since they had that stupid air-conditioner installed. Yes stupid, she can’t stand the cold. But he sweetly said, that is what blankets and cuddles are for, she fell for that and agreed.

She felt cold then, tiny shivers escaped through her icy fingers. She felt him and his warmth as he stirred slightly next to her, hogging more of the blanket and facing himself away from her. She sighed. She reached out her hand, wanting to hug him, and enjoy his warmth and his smell but she hesitated. She pulled back her arm and sighed.

She remembered what had happened last night. He just got back from a trip and she missed him, oh how she missed him. She had everything planned. She had gotten a new nightie and wore that licorice perfume he loved. They tried making love. She was into it. She wanted it. She pulled him close, guided his hand where she wanted to be touched and he in turn gave a lazy comply.  But somewhere in the heat and soft moans, his blasted phone rang and he had the nerve to stop and answered it. Ending the call, he gave her a peck on the cheek and said “maybe later” to his left-unsatisfied wife and went to sleep, hogging the blanket. She had to finish his job while he was snoring away.

Her stomach twisted to uneasiness. Things had changed, she noticed it for awhile. She asked, and only to have a grunt for an answer or “nothing”. She hated the feeling. Her stomach felt like a million butterflies flying around, pushing themselves up her throat, leaving her queasy. It had been like this for weeks now. The endless nausea and headaches. Not to mention constant confusions. She was not willing to say it aloud, but she admitted in her heart. She was confused with him.

For a happy second last week, she thought she was pregnant. But then that time of the month came and her happy thought poofed away to oblivion. Not to mention, their sex lives where next to none these days. She sighed again. What happened? She sat up in bed and thought hard. What did I do wrong? You can’t just stop loving someone, can you?

The machines outside gave out more loud bangs and an ear-splitting horn making her more dizzy. She felt him stirred again, and her hair was caressed. That longing feeling appeared again, but she remained still. Not wanting to have her hopes up. Sure enough, he got out of bed, not looking at her and went straight out. That did it, she plunged herself back to bed, face down and pouted. Something need to happen. Please.

The door gave a little squeak, signs of him coming back in only this time accompany with a wafting smell of coffee. She lay still. He nudged her a bit, she stubbornly not wanting to respond. He chuckled and picked her up and looked into her eyes. “Morning sayang,” he said. She smiled, finally.

He gave her the coffee, urging her to drink. She took it from him, and realized a nutty taste to it. She raised an eyebrow and he just said “new coffee” and drank his. 

They talked a bit. But it was still off, she realized. He was looking at her, as if waiting for something to happen. She felt dizzier, her nausea getting worse and her stomach twisted. She feared he is going to leave. She felt… sleepy.

***

He looked at her still body. She looked peaceful. He ran his hand over her cheek and realized, she was never that beautiful until she stopped breathing. Finally, he thought. She was tougher than the rest, took a solid 3 weeks before the poison finally kicked in. She was fun for awhile, then she got all needy and shit. Thank God for the construction, he thought. He cheerfully decided he would cement her body tonight.

Sugar

For the millionth time, he checked out his watch. Late. He took out a cigarette and idly wondered if he should light it up. His head played the scene of when someone had had the nerve to update him about her, only to have his annoyance trickled down to a pity finding out that she had cancer. He sighed and put the cigarette back into its box. God damn cancer, he thought.

More people were coming in the cafe and still the person he was waiting for have not yet to show. A waitress, with an obviously intended low neckline, sauntered towards him with his tea, gave him a little but enough distraction from the raising noise of the cafe's patrons. She pushed the sachets or condiments or whatever the hell it is called towards him and walked away. He scoffed looking at the brown sugar and white sugar sachets.

He remembered back when they were together. She was never a romantic, and that was the problem. Her nos were quick but her yeses were too long to be waited. He teased her about it, only to have her rolling her eyes and calling him a girl. He had had enough one time, telling her that he better of dating a plywood, which was equivalent of her body. He remembered how she looked when he told her that. The next day, after class, she handed him sugar sachets with scrawling she called her hand writing saying "You're my white sugar" and the other "I'm your brown sugar" obviously implying the total difference of their skin pigments. He laughed and they kissed.

But those were the days, and at the current moment, the other bloody sachets were staring up to him and pushing those currently, irrelevant, not - important, why-the-hell-do-I-remember-all-these fucked-up memories to his head. He sighed, took out his phone and punched out what can be considered as a greeting.

His girlfriend came in, rushed towards him and profusely apologised. He shrugged and they continued their day in what the writer can only describe, probably annoyingly sweet. Somewhere in the middle of the date, when the girlfriend was in a dressing room, he checked his phone and found a reply. He checked again for the coast to be cleared and read the message. "Fuck off you bloody cheater"

He chuckled. Well, who says cancer changes anyone. 

That one phone call.

Kau senang-senang nak mengalah.
Melampau, macam dapat barah.
Malas aku nak cakap suruh pasrah.
Dah, dah.
Lap mata kau yang basah.
Berhenti menangis, serious takde sapa pun kisah.
Macam nenek cakap, jantan dekat luar banyak bersepah.
Sekarang kau tukar langkah.
Diri tegak, jalan megah.
Dah, dah.
Nanti balik, Putrajaya kau singgah.
Kita beli ice cream lepas tu berkelah.
Sudah.
Aku kata sudah.
Sinilah, biar aku tampar dia sampai merah.
Ke nak aku buat sampai berdarah?
Ha kan, dah ketawa dekah-dekah.

Ok malas nak rhyme dah.

That was the plan.

You were supposed to wear the customed dark grey with micro white stripes suit, a white shirt with a navy tie. Your shoes would shine and your socks matched. Your hair was to be swept back and you would wear the copper watch I gave you.

I was supposed to be wearing a navy kebaya made out of real songket with a nude colour Mary Jane's. My hair was to be pulled into a french bun with a braid on one side. I was to wear the copper watch you gave me.

Then we would celebrate our sixth year, with our scrolls in our hands.

That was the plan.

And now, here I am looking at gold French Lace and ruby red lining still undecided whether to make a kebaya or baju kurung. I still am going to have my hair pulled into a french bun and wear my nude colour Mary Jane's. I already tossed away the copper watch you gave me.

I plan to avoid you.

Mrs. Lynn McNugget.

A-tisket, A- tasket.
A black and gold casket.
"So long you old Ferret!"
cried old Mrs Lynn McNugget.

He won't eat his omelet,
now he plays with the maggots.
All the while she fidgets,
and fiddles with her secret.

His death was made private,
and everything in his wallet,
not forgetting all the karat,
to get herself a Parrot.

How I ruined The Dark Knight Rises

***contain spoilers***

When I first got my car, I was in the mood to decorate it so it wouldn't be that crappy. So I took my Justice League mini dolls and place them on the dashboard. I was stupid, poor Green Lantern almost became a blob with the heat we faced in UUM.

The arrangement of the dolls often changed. My friends, depends who have the sticky hand, would always put Superman or the Martian Manhunter upfront of the V formation. For me, it was always Batman. So as you might as guess, I could not wait for what Mr Nolan had installed  for the trilogy.

I was excited. Bouncing up and down in line for the tickets. Rambled on and on how I cannot wait till midnight so we can watch the movie, while my sister rolled her eyes. Took pictures of the tickets, whatsapp-ed it to Min with a lot of smiley faces and she in turn rolled her eyes too. Then comes midnight, I marched into the cinema with this big fat grin even though I was denied of my popcorn! So yeah, ecstatic.

So this movie, that was probably gonna be the only highlight in this God awful months of unemployment ends up meh. Why? Because I predicted too much.

There was a scene where Alfred said how much he wanted to look up and see Wayne and other half happy, and I said to myself that is gonna be ending scene. Guess what, it was!

Even when Miranda came up in the picture, getting it on with Wayne, I predicted that she was bad news, probably link to Bane. And she was! All the time when they trying to figure out who ratted them out, I was pointing to her.

That climb Bruce Wayne had to take to get out of the prison, I whispered to my sleeping brother that he had to not use the rope to get out. And yep, I was right.

When Batman was in the flying contraption, and he said no auto-pilot, I said bullshit. He's Batman.

The dudes in twitter intentionally tweeted to me that Batman gonna die. Even when they showed Bruce Wayne's grave and a crying Alfred, I still said bullshit. He's Batman.

And there's more....... but I'm lazy to elaborate. As far as the script and the plot goes, it is gonna be a long discussion. But in my own unimportant, not worthy to be quoted opinion, I was more giggly with Batman Begins.

Anyway, by the end of the movie, since I practically got to predict almost half of the scenes, it didn't have enough fizzle to get me grinning. I got out of the cinema saying well, it was good and hoping Joseph Gordon-Levitt got his own franchise or maybe like the rumors circling around, Nightwing. But the other patrons were smiling and commenting how they never would've guessed, their mind blown, it was the most awesome movie of the year so far, hailing Mr Nolan as their King, yada yada yada. Oh how I envy them.

Here is a secret.

Secrets. Some of them are cute as hell, like that kid telling his dad the supposed secret of how to eat Oreo so in turn he could have a little (or a lot - depends on your definition) sugar in him. Or that friend who would ask for sleepover parties on the pretense to accompany you on a thunderous night but secretly want to have more eye candy time and go googly eyes over your next door neighbor. Well those are somewhat cute. Then there are the "I'll honestly kill you if you  tell anyone" secrets. Dead pan expression included. Try avoid this one at all cost.

But sometimes, due to your bad feng shui, you found yourself in a situation where you are obligated to keep a secret. You may want to take no part of it, but it just presented itself to you then proceed to chain itself to your neck and swallow the key. Try as hard as you would but you can't pull yourself together enough to shove your arm down its throat to retrieve the bloody key. You can't get away and you're now stuck with it forever, unless you decided to yip. You yipped, and boom! That chain is yanked and you're now nothing but a decapitated head.

That may seem a little excessive, but the burden of holding on to your own secret is already crushing your bone and having to keep another person's secret can leave you in a state that I can only describe as the following: choking on a twinkie and the only person in the room is rocking out to "Call Me Maybe" oblivious to your situation.

So I decided to tell it all. The secrets I'm bearing. I wrote it down in a long list, slip it in one of the romance novel over on the National Library. I hope she (or the off chance it could be a he) find delights of the scandals I kept for people.

fin.

Coffee and Donuts

Now I don't know how this is true but I had been told that I sabotage everything that could be good for me, and that was coming out from a Psychology Major. The only reaction it got from me was a quirked eyebrow and a nervous "yeah, no."

That apparently did not satisfy the said Psychology Major, who was passionate enough to use every schematic knowledge she had acquired after years of hard studying to experiment on me. Big mistake I might add.

She sat me down, got me a cup of coffee and donuts and told me "Come on, amuse me a bit. Let me figure you out,"  I'm all for people to figure me out so I figured why the hell not. I should have warn her the effects of coffee on me, especially when donuts are in the equation, but I'm a firm believer of experience is the best teacher.

She asked me lots of questions which was textbook Psychology. I swear if she had a mustache, she'll rub it while she thoughtfully consider my answers. When she asked me about my dreams, I amused her with details that gets her red and flushed. I mean she was asking for it.

By then, the sugar was high enough for me to ramble mundane details of life. It was fun, coz it was all about me, me, me for once. But curses! the giggling started and my jigged was up. She sighed and asked, if I do this a lot. I smiled and told her that there is nothing to figure out.

Towards the last sip of my coffee, after we abandoned the whole let me experiment on you session I told her what I gathered. She has a bit of wiggling her pinky when picking up the coffee mug, she scrunched up her nose before biting her donuts and that she fiddle way too much with her necklace. Yes Min, I love you too :) hehe