he roar of a scooter engine announced the arrival of the mail. Two years ago,
Fong Jia-long wouldn‟t have cared about the arrival of a bunch of pointless junk mail
and bills. He would‟ve had his wife go and get it. But a lot had changed since his
mandatory retirement. Life was quieter now, and lonelier. Most days Jia-long‟s only
companion was a lifetime of memories: memories of choices, most of which haunted
him relentlessly now.
As Jia-long stepped into the atrium, he realized it was raining. He grabbed an
umbrella and stepped outside the front door to retrieve
10
the mail. The stack of letters
that he pulled out was lighter than usual. Only two.