It is while standing at the edge of the most exciting rollercoaster ride in my life that I remember the strangest stuff.
In an instant, I was transported years back, to when I was Primary 5.
I was standing at a bus stand, shoes scruffy (just how I liked them, comfy), uniform orderly disorder. I wasn’t waiting for a bus though, but a girl.
She would take the 11.45pm 198 bus that brought you to the outskirts of Fairfield Methodist Primary School 30 minutes early. I would then board the same bus and sit next to her.
She wore the all blue tie that signified a prefect stature. Her attire was orderly, her coiffure neat and her features, flawless.
I didn’t notice that then of course. Girls then were at best friends, at worst enemies. To be handled warily and not to be trusted.
Not this girl though. We talked naturally, without the awkwardness of puberty or gender.
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5 years on, we grew up. Both went to the same secondary school, classmates for the last two years. We hardly noticed each other.
She lost her prefect tie, attire in a orderly disorder and gained an aggressive attitude. I did my best to present a good outlook of myself in school, mild and meek.
We did talk, but it was shallow and drivel. Gone was the touch of friendship.
I last saw her a year after I graduated from secondary school. I went through a second round of puberty (!!!) and grew taller and slimmer. While walking with a friend in Dover, I ran into her. Her hair was all done up, face painted and a accessory guy beside her.
A glance. A flicker of recognition. No change of pace. No halt in conversation
We pass each other by and the flashback faded to black, to reality.
A shame, oh a shame, to have grown too old and critical for friendship to flourish.
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