Fiction: Group 4
I laugh in return. So she hasn’t forgotten me.What a relief.
‘So, why are you calling?’ she asks.
‘Well I… I don’t know.’
‘You don’t… know?’
‘Yeah, maybe because I want somebody to talk to, someone smart and assured.’
Then comes a moment of silence, like a cloud covering up the bright, pale moon in the
night. Darkening the sky as it does.
‘I… I am sure that there are more smart and assured guys you could talk to,’ she says swiftly,
like lightning: one minute it’s there, another it’s gone.
I sigh.‘It seems that it’s of a reverse nature these days. Guys can be really indecisive.’
‘So... what do you want to talk about?’
‘Are you aware of the umbrella revolution in Hong Kong?’
‘Yeah, I mean it’s all over the news. Fight for democracy, valid universal suffrage.’
‘It’s getting tiring,’ I say with a slight sigh.
‘Why, doesn’t it concern the future of your home?’
‘I know it does.’ It comes out a bit louder than I want to.‘But all those conflicts, all those
fights, all those accusations: it’s as if Hong Kong is being torn apart, you know? People are starting to
unfriend their friends on Facebook, police are called dogs, the whole of society is resorting to violence
when they think their voices are unheard.What’s the good of universal suffrage when faced with these?’
‘I… I…Well, I don’t know what to say.’ Her tone changes. Gone are the sarcasm and fun,
replaced by pity and concern.The moon is clouded once again.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you with my problems.’
After a moment,‘Bye.’
‘Wait!’A voice strikes my eardrums, as if thunder.‘Wait. It’s ok, I’m cool with your
problems. It’s just that… take it this way: China is just starting to rise from the ashes. Give it time. I’m
sure that it will all get better in the future. Besides, what’s success without struggle?’ Her voice is
soothing, like a hand on my head, warm, comforting.
‘Well, I hope you’re right.’
Witty and empathetic. If only I could see her more.
Linda
Another day of business for me.Another day not seeing Aaron. Pathetic.
It’s been 2 months since he left Macau. He has been calling me every single night ever
since.Well, sometimes it is me who calls.
The plaza is packed with people as usual. I doubt if a single drop of water could seep
through the crowd.Voices and shouting fill the air, rattling, raw, ruthless.
The stairs to the façade are filled with people: some sitting, some standing, some holding
cameras; most speaking Mandarin. Ever since the handover, the small, quiet city of Macau has turned
into a bustling place, bursting with energy and neon lights.
‘Hey you, one egg tart!’ one shouts in Mandarin.
‘Hey, egg tart!’ another shouts in Mandarin.
‘Egg tart!’
‘Give me an egg tart!’
‘COME ON, HURRY UP, IWANT AN EGGTART!’
All these Mandarin shouts are dynamite, exploding inside my brain, devastating, painful,
obliterating everything in their wake.
‘May I have 2 tarts, please?’A gentle, warm voice says in Mandarin. I look up, and see a
man with his girlfriend in front of me. I freeze for a moment.
The voice speaks again. ‘Are you ok?’
‘Yeah.Yeah, I’m fine.’ I wipe my hands on my apron.
‘Don’t push her, she’s been working all day,’ the girl says, smiling.‘Take your time, we can
wait.’
I take out two tarts from the oven, and give them to the man.
As he is paying I say,‘Came to Macau with your girlfriend for a holiday?’
‘Yeah,’ he smiles, turning his head to the girl.
