Birthdays and Strangers whom you travel with

Friday
It is Eric's birthday; as is revealed on the getting-lost way to the Civil Sports Club. Jia Han fishes several matchbox-sized candy boxes out of his pocket and presents them to him, solemnly, as a present. After the rest of us has finished munching up all the sweets for him, we pelt Eric with the empty boxes.
I foolishly give in to peer pressure and attempt to jaywalk across a speeding highway. My life flashes before my eyes. We reach the other side the same time as the more sensible girls who crossed with the overhead bridge. I am NEVER doing that again.

Saturday
It is Cheek's birthday (the next day); during post-sectional lunch at SMU I remember the cake shop at the end of the food court. On the spur of the moment Esther, Lorenda and I rush there and buy a fudge slice along with a free candle. In her excitement, Esther breaks it (the candle, not the cake). It is the last one the hapless store-owner has; she improvises and shortens it.
It is also Yi San's birthday (the previous day). The girls converge on Sona's house and pool, where I suddenly recall how lovely, and how flexible one becomes, in water. I could be a regular gymnast if air density was like that. The last time I felt so relaxed was lying on a distant beach in Glenelg, some months ago. We dish and tease one person in particular mercilessly. (Shall be merciful and say no more. There are evil grins all around.) The birthday girl gets a sparkler at Fish and Co., where the TV is distracting, the music is distracting... distracting me from what? I can't put my finger on it.

Sunday
Aside from the Yamaha auditions, where Maggie (ha!) turns out to be one of the judges, I meet uncharacteristic people. On the bus to Clementi two little elderly ladies elbow past me unflinchingly to get out at their stop. "Rang kai, rang kai!" they snap. I step quickly out of the way, giving another passenger a mild concussion with my guitar as a result.
And on the MRT home a young pregnant woman steps on and stands right in front of the (occupied) seat headed with the Please give up your seat to someone who needs it more sign; the two Indian guys sitting there appear oblivious. Oh, look, he's standing up, oh, it's just to put his handphone back in his back pocket. They continue to chatter, the woman tries to look as if she does not actually need the seat, after all. One of the uncourteous fellows rests his arm casually on the other guy's shoulder, and suddenly appears to be stroking the other guy's chin with the back of his hand. My gosh! His friend kind of puts his own hand there, and there they are, linking fingers and looking very romantic.
Hm. I hope I did not stare too much.