Three Black Marks

The shiner at Mr. Teh Tarik alarming. It was ghastly to behold; truly gruesome. A hard blow involved, not glancing. No possibility of covering, not that the woman tried. No avoiding her post either behind the counter serving the food. In the middle of Ramadan, the holiest month. Mr. T. T. has closed down his kitchen proper for the month and shifted to evening stalls out along the walkway. Other stalls stretched to Haig Road. Mostly food hawkers, certainly the first half. Large crowds from late afternoon, and then the evening groups at the tables. This woman wearing the ripe plum-blue shiner worked at the stall nearest Serai, right at the end. One might risk all tomorrow asking Ricky at that same counter there what it was all about. The Lenovo man, one year junior, with whom warm hail-fellow-well-met greetings had been quickly established. Big dollars willing to be wagered betting he wasn't the perpetrator. Hasn't got it in him. Early on he was in danger of losing the shirt from his back when he wanted to wager that he was the senior. Raised his Lenovo cap in acknowledgement when told. No, the oaf responsible was his burly friend, who Ricky was helping with the food stall these four weeks. (The Chinese computer software mob ordinarily, driver or some-such.) Burly a body-builder not long ago, tough guy barroom brawler. That was who swung the backhander. A punch would have killed the darling. To the wince signaled she merely gave a look of, There You Are! averted her face, turning side-on. Chatted shortly after with a friend, a woman behind the counter with her.  A little smile somewhere in the later interaction, before getting away with the food parcel. Actually giving a clear, direct smile. The second or third incidence in these ten weeks in the quarter. The one last week a much older woman, well into her fifties, scaved and fully covered. The upright head she immediately lowered, going on purposefully without breaking stride. That she had been observed was taken. A flash showed. Nothing of any consequence. No business of any one else's—that's what it seemed. Not as deep or dark as the younger. The first sighting was early on, numbers of weeks ago, much less obvious, smaller affair. Years and years in the past back home, or hidden in the suburbs. Nothing of the slightest kind giving indictaion otherwise in all the interactions here witnessed day after day, night after night amongst the people. Indeed every indication in the other direction: cohesive, contented families, often extended, taking simple joys together. Harmony, order, laughter—smiles and healthy laughter. A couple of fantastic fat scarved gals a few weeks ago at Mr. T. T. sitting across from each other and finding wonderful fun together. Heavily made-up faces fetchingly rimmed by their scarves. Not schoolgirls either; well into their thirties and too many goreng pisangs (fried bananas). The brightness and largeness of their pleasure needed acknowledgement and indeed congratulation. Reader, it was duly accorded, in the best fashion that could be managed.