My accidental last cigarette happened at 8:45pm yesterday, outside a 7-11 whose sign had given up on life even before I had given up on nicotine. It was just supposed to be a placeholder smoke—a nicotine appetizer before the main course. You see, I had choreographed this whole dramatic ‘final cigarette’ scene in my head: midnight strike, philosophical exhale, perhaps a gentle breeze to carry away both smoke and my addiction. Very cinematic. Oscar-worthy, really.
Continue reading “Day One”
Meet Chip
Chip is a friend. Chip is also what we Malaysians would affectionately call a “kiam siap Chinaman.” The term, while not a racial slur, is a blend of affection and mockery— half admiration for thriftiness, half exasperation at Scrooge-like tendencies. But Chip? He wears the label proudly.