I gulped down a glass of cold water greedily. It was still Saturday morning. The weekend loomed. I opened the fridge and a dried-up apple stared back at me. I sat numbly on my bed. I drank more water. I curled up on the sofa and turned on the TV. I needed chatter in the room. I surfed the few channels I had, and decided to check my handphone for messages. The boxy black words peered out of the square screen.

Sorry sorry sorry I felt so out of it that stuff was so strong. You were sitting with some guy so I left. You okay?

Babes, are you OK??

Can you PLEASE answer

Freaking out now

Babes please CALL ME

I was never doing it again. Never doing E again. Never going out with Karin again. Ever.

I walked around the apartment, pacing up and down.

Omar. Omar. Who the hell are you?

Then I saw a pink post-it on my door.

Call me: 012 323 0929

I dialled the number. Each button a nervous, loud bleep. Three rings.

Hi, it’s me. From this morning.

His voice, soft, a slight pleasing pause.

Hello…how you feeling? Sleep well?

I took a deep breath and tried to speak unhurriedly, but.

I’d like to see you, if that’s okay. Sorry, I don’t mean to be pushy or anything, I just don’t really want to be alone right now.

A slow breath.

Yes, I understand.

An hour later, he was downstairs. I got into his car, and as I sank into the cool leather seat, I felt like weeping—I don’t know why. We went to Raju’s and found a quiet spot under a tree. He had a roti, I had teh tarik and thosai. He ate hungrily, with his fingers. Our eyes met and parted several times. I was overcome by shyness, but each time he caught me looking at him, he smiled as if he understood. In the light, his eyes were almost green.

The waiters hovered around with buckets of white rice and stainless steel containers of curries. Entire families seated around us. Children refusing to eat, sullen fathers slurping tea and shoving huge morsels of vegetables, mutton, fish into cavernous mouths. Mothers in saris, silent, brooding. Bursts of loud chatter.

He asked for the bill in Malay, paid and thanked the waiter. When we got into the car he turned to me and said, I don’t know what’s going on, but this seems like the most natural thing in the world to me. Right now. He put his hand gently on mine.

All I could do was nod. There was nothing to say.