August 8 – National Day Eve

This morning began with tension. I said I’d pray later, as I was busy, but Mum snapped — saying I never help, even with small things. She scolded me for sleeping late again and called me stubborn. When I did pray, I placed the joss stick wrongly. She corrected me — said it should go in the middle — that I never listen.She asked about my throat, told me again that I always refuse to drink the aloe juice. I ate my breakfast quietly. She stood there, silently watching. I took the lift down.Missed bus 293. Missed bus 29. Took bus 28 instead.In the building, there was no toilet paper, so I walked to the last stall. I made it to the lift just in time — but the boy inside didn’t press the button. As I walked down the staircase, a wave of anxiety hit — afraid someone might scold me for no reason.Still, I’m grateful. I’m okay.The bicycle bell startled me, but it didn’t hit. Just rang.I sat beside someone familiar — he glanced at my phone. Later, I got a compliment about my bag. Someone showed me their NDP t-shirt. And just like that, I was flooded with memories — and emotions I couldn’t quite explain.I imagined saying: “Hi Mr Mok, good to see you. Happy National Day.”In that little roleplay moment, he handed me Tiger Balm and said: “Tie the strings carefully later, and stay positive.”We’re tying red bags today — it’s National Day Eve.