the same rainbow's end.

Your eyes were not staring into the lens of the polaroid. We had supper at Sim Pang that night when I had managed to convince Sufen to drive to the east from the north. Such spatial distinction were sensitive. I think we took three shots, but I don't know if all three of us have one each to keep.

*

That night, when you came over to my room for the first time, you saw the same polaroid and cried. That very moment was the first time I left my anger behind, not knowing what to do except that instinctively, you were on my shoulder. We promised to make this work because we have to.

*

Audrey Hepburn's been singing Moon River on loop for the past two days, adding unnecessary cinematic effect that echoes my room. The row of polaroids stood on my mirror, staring at me every time when I do up my hair or check my zit. But you weren't staring at me, your eyes were somewhere else.

*

There is one polaroid; the Tampines train tracks stood majestically behind me. I looked like a little child forced to look into the camera while posing embarrassingly with an architectural grandeur. I scribbled 'monday blues' in front of it. It says 03.1'.07 tampines at the back. I missed my assessment review because my submission was late, and you tried cheering me up. You were behind the polaroid camera, and I said it was a beautifully composed picture. It really was.


Today, I took down all the polaroids, and kept it in the drawers somewhere.