Making the Crossing

No real sign of the holiday eve at Tasvee tonight. More people out for a Monday perhaps. The mainland Chinese, the Indians here and Bangladeshis, the old fellas down from their hot-box HDB's, have nothing much to celebrate of course. In the morning the chaps will be up on their scaffolds and down in the trenches same as any other day, the difference being twelve and fourteen hours are out. Eight to five strictly tomorrow - Government regs. Respect for the foundation day needs marking by all. New Year and Christmas might not get this treatment.
There won't be any big sporting event to help it along tomorrow. That branch of civic communion still very much in nascent form in Singapore. A parade of some colorful form at Marina Bay, televised no doubt. Otherwise the shopping malls the chief resort for the mums and dads.
A young Indian woman - from the sub-continent at any rate - waited a full ten-twelve or more minutes out front of Tasvee to cross the road tonight. Perfectly able-bodied, quite quick-moving once she could hazard a start. Fine, slim build, in her early-mid twenties. A few times she began, only to be daunted by what she saw ahead. Showed no impatience the while however. Standing calmly at ease, unhurried. Not entirely clear whether she might have been waiting for someone, though it didn't look like. No. Simply not trusting the lighted hurtling machines coming on. Not an especially dangerous road here. The traffic unable to speed in the congestion, all the footsloggers, bicycles and motorcycles making drivers wary and cautious. A pretty kind of girl in her unadorned plainness; not a worker definitely. Possibly washes dishes in the back at Tasvee. She seemed to have come from inside. A country girl, holding up reasonably well by the look of it, not all at sea. Got lots of looks from the by-passers of course, especially the Indian lads, turning their heads trying to figure her it seemed. Dozens had made the crossing meanwhile, scores and scores of people. She though would not be tempted while any one of the four lanes carried a vehicle as far as the eye could see. There had been an half impulse to rise from the seat and escort her across, in the unlikely event she would have allowed. The air about her suggested she would not have accepted the offer, certainly not. Reminded of Cunnamulla Daryl, Nipper, setting off for Brisbane the day he turned fifteen when his apprenticeship papers turned up. His mother's alarm ineffective.
- You not seen a traffic light, you're going to Brisbane!
Not dissimilar colour in the pair.