Bus Stop

She stands under the shade of the tree, hiding from the sweltering hot sun.

Hot air blasts in her face, roaring like the breath of a tiger. She squints, blinking salty sweat out of her eyes.

The fabric of her shirt stained as the beads of sweat trickle down her back.

Buses lounge around like lazy, gigantic crocodiles sunning themselves.

She watches muscular, tanned men carrying construction materials to the new building project; in their shiny flourescent safety vests, their shiny yellow helmets.

They’re covered in dust, their faces sooty.

A young man coughs violently as the dust gets in his throat.

The smell of freshly fried keropok lekor from a makeshift stall nearby permeats the air.

She swallows the saliva building up in her throat  – walks over to the stall and requests for a packet.

The makcik  grins toothily at her customer. Silver tongs pick out the crispy slices of fish into a transparent plastic bag.

The girl’s ride is here. She boards it and looks back at the bus stop and it’s hive of activity.

She closes her eyes and sleeps in the sweltering heat of the broken down air conditioning, dreams festering in a hot cocoon.



Just stuff that I found lying around. I wrote this when I was 20. I think. lol.

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