Memories, once vivid, have faded like the colours of kain batik left too long under the sun. I can barely summon Father’s face -- his scent of Benson & Hedges, the subtle shift of weight when he walked until one side of his slippers’ sole was pressed thinner than the other -- I cannot recall which foot.
Mother is getting older. My sister has a husband whose demeanour eerily copies 98.32% of my late Father. The workplace is getting toxic. Adulthood is like an uphill battle. I feel like I am losing my step and letting myself roll down the hill into wherever my unfortunate life avalanche brings me.
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