KISAH Futures Anthology
The boy flung his overstuffed bag onto one of the beds, and peeled off his mask, leaving it on the nightstand. “Is this yours?” he asked, patting the blanket. “You can have it,” the man replied. The boy took off his shirt as he lay on what was now his bed. He was skinnier than before, but still had some muscle left. The man conjured a cigarette from his pocket, lighted it and sat by the open window. The boy crumpled his nose but said nothing. “How did you get the room?” he asked. “I saved up,” the man said, “They only had the twin beds today so I thought some company would be nice.” “Yeah, I was already running over when my friend called.”
The man was quiet, sucking on his cigarette. “Where do you usually sleep?” the boy asked.
“Outside the bank. Lots of lights,” the man said “If the area is bad. I stay with the ATMs until security chases me away. Got aircon some more.” “That’s nice. I stay around the shops. Sometimes I have kaya toast or nasi lemak when I wake up,” the boy said, “Alhamdulillah. You’re always five feet away from a friend.” “I don’t know what that means.” “You’re always five feet away from a friend. It’s something my mother said.” The man took a final puff before flicking the cigarette out the window. He shuffled to his bed, laying over the blankets. “And where is your mother now?” he asked, turning to the boy.
65
Made with FlippingBook - Online catalogs