Today, the world slowed down.
The clinic lights felt distant, and the doctor’s voice was calm—“Rest two days.” I nodded, my eyes heavy with more than sleep.
In the payment queue, a Malay lady nearby smiled and said, “Can use any machine.” Then, with a hint of warmth and humour, she asked, “Hello—have you wake up?”
I blinked, half-dazed, and nodded. We both laughed quietly.
Sometimes strangers hold softness too.
Back home, I had porridge and upside-down siew mai. I napped through the early afternoon. A kind message reached me—“Rest well. I miss you.”
A thousand people peeked into my little shop. My mum reminded me about Bee Hoon. Someone kept my Milo.
Even in flu and fatigue, this day wrapped itself around small kindnesses. Healing isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it just gently notices you.
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