this could be fiction.

I remember being disappointed, because through the phone you sounded cold and dismissive, as if you couldn’t care less whether I joined you for dinner or not. How I wanted to pretend that I didn’t care either, by not joining you – but in the end I gave in and went. I was 20 minutes early. in the middle of the MTR station, leaning against a wall, I watched as the world went by. The city rushed past me without a second glance, everyone absorbed in their own little worlds. In such crowds, every individual inevitably becomes insignificant.

I wondered if you could find me here, there being so many MTR exits, so many crossroads to choose from. I imagined you being frustrated, and giving up, because why put so much effort in searching for just another insignificant face in the crowd? But you found me. I watched as you approached me. I liked the strange way you walk, like a hockey player – slightly hunched, allowing your shoulders to lead the way. “long time no see” you greeted, though it was only the day before that we met. “yea, long time no see” I replied, grinning from ear to ear.

You introduced me to your friends, I politely said hi, then tried to hide behind my hair. “aw come on, I know you’re not the shy type”, you encouraged. And sure enough, your friends and I warmed up in no time. Especially your best friend, H, he was so cute and easy-going, I liked him instantly. During dinner, I spent most of the night talking to H, and you suddenly turned to me and bit me playfully on my arm. H murmured a comment, so quick and soft, I almost missed it. I asked, “what did you say?” and H replied, “oh, nothing.” But I heard him alright. “something’s going on between you two”, thats what he said. Those simple words, and some other things he said later on, made me ponder for quite some time. I tore those words apart, analyzed them, put them together again, flipped them over, inspected them from every angle. Those were just words. But they came from your best friend’s observations of you and me. Maybe I trusted him. Maybe I wanted to trust him.

Fragments: We went drinking with your friends, you were sick that night so I didn’t want you to drink. You asked why can’t you drink when you’re sick. I called a waitress over and said, “hello, this gentleman would like to know why – “ and you covered my mouth with your hand. The waitress laughed. I let you order something light. You played with piggy who was hanging on my bag. You took piggy’s hand and made him say hi to me. Piggy’s never spoken to me before, you gave him life. A week later I gave you piggy as a farewell gift, and I kept elephant. I told you to wash piggy cos he was turning grey. You said washing him would remove my scent. I think I blushed. I sniffed piggy out, and told you piggy didn’t smell good. You laughed. Back to the drinking night: Your friends ordered shisha. You told me to try some, I wouldn’t. you asked me if you could take some, I said no, and you listened (but I know you sneakily took some when I pretended to look away). I felt like your wife. Shisha smoke filled the air, H was such an avid smoker. he looked so stoned, i was quite worried. You kept sweeping the smoke away from my face. You scolded H for puffing the smoke on my face. It’s strange. At moments like these I felt so loved by you, but at other moments I feel like I don't mean a thing to you.

Eight months of miscommunication, and I’m down to this. I try to remember every detail, but inevitably, there are bits and pieces missing. This could be fiction, this could be my memory.