character 1

like always, her shift wouldn't begin till 2pm. and that was good. she sighed a heavy sigh in gratitude. the morning was almost over. she had just woken up, sullen as every morning. and the first thing she did after confirming her shift in memory, was to reach out for the pack of cigarettes. the almost-noon sun was peeping in through that broken bit in the blinds in her room, falling directly into her face. getting a response of a scowl from her, while the white tips of her bangs caught the light. if you looked at her hair alone you would think they were feathers on a bird's closed wing. those dense short black lacklustre bangs with white tips, like a 2-colored bird's wing, seemingly capable of sudden flight.

she thought of calling her son, then dismissed the thought cos she couldn't think of anything pleasant to talk with him. it was best this way. she hadn't spoken with him in months, and every once a week she dismissed the thought. staring at the smoke from her lips she was thinking about people, about her son, about when she last had a conversation with a person. a real conversation, not those one-way 2-word greetings that she would respond to with a grunt whenever she took over a shift from someone. nor those meaningless - "hi"s and "thank you"s from the university students who boarded her bus. those juvenile-good-for-nothing kids. why did they bother smiling at her anyway. all she wanted to do was to finish circling a complete route so she could disembark for the 5-10 minute break and puff at her cigarette. maybe slip off her loafers and scratch her feet meditatively. and relax. take a break. from her life.

Chinese women at a beach in Shandong, afraid of becoming dark-skinned!!! (from nytimes.com)

and when you came alive on paper last night, you seemed strangely familiar. do I know you?

what do those people do who always restrain themselves from being expressive in any manner. who hesitate with what they have an impulse to do but check that impulse in time. maybe with more than one effort. but successfully. so successfully that the next instant they are unaware there ever was such an impulse.

those who hardly ever make the first move. they never embarrass themselves. they play when they are assured of a favorable return. and only then.

do they have regrets? do they ever wish they hadn't waited, hadn't played safe. had given in to some emotion, been reckless.

or is regret only for those embarrassed, those who knock, dig, scrape because they must, because if they didn't they'd be someone else. because there's no reason to reason with. and find things they don't like. because they actually find. unlike knowing what's on the other end and then choosing to walk the distance, they come upon it.