Meeting for Coffee
We met for coffee at Cosy Bay today. I was apprehensive about meeting him again so soon, but I figured he just wanted to know me better as a friend.
I like talking to him. Conversation with him flows easily, without the usual awkward silences you get with new people you meet. He makes me feel at ease, and I find myself opening up to him. We talk about NTU life, his experience growing up in the kampong and he even told me about his problem with his dad who has a second family in Indonesia.
On my part, I told him about my father’s womanizing, my mother’s ignorant bliss and also about my hand*. It didn’t seem to perturb him. In fact, he seemed to think I had done well, having accomplished what I had given the adverse circumstances. He likened it to his experience of fighting his family’s poverty.
I thought to myself, we could become good friends.
*I had meningitis when I was seven years old, and as a result am unable to control the movements of my left hand.
I like talking to him. Conversation with him flows easily, without the usual awkward silences you get with new people you meet. He makes me feel at ease, and I find myself opening up to him. We talk about NTU life, his experience growing up in the kampong and he even told me about his problem with his dad who has a second family in Indonesia.
On my part, I told him about my father’s womanizing, my mother’s ignorant bliss and also about my hand*. It didn’t seem to perturb him. In fact, he seemed to think I had done well, having accomplished what I had given the adverse circumstances. He likened it to his experience of fighting his family’s poverty.
I thought to myself, we could become good friends.
*I had meningitis when I was seven years old, and as a result am unable to control the movements of my left hand.
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