Banish the Thought (updated Jan23)

Funeral for the chap next door in the giant four storey place completed a couple of years ago here. Three brothers, one of whom had only a short time to enjoy the fruit of his labours. A case of rapid decline according to Auntie Helen—rapid weight loss, hair loss last sighting and in a wheelchair. Same day another one too over toward Katong opposite old Mr. Ng’s place, where a middle-aged son or grandson of a local spring-roll king suffered an unexpected heart attack. The latter event had been featured front page of the Home section. Meanwhile, all the while, upstairs the old Chinese uncle who drives the well-washed Toyota saloon continues his stabs at life with his cycle of young Karaoke lasses. A couple of days ago the latest young lady appeared early twenties first sighting, in her white pleated dress, long reddy tint and wide, half bashful smile. The front door was tricky for newcomers, the thin latch hidden and awkward to reach through the grill. At her exit that first morning the lass needed to be escorted out the back door and shown the path around the side of the house. This morning the poor thing fumbled again out front and was encountered at the side gate while taking out the garbage. Brought from there around in front, a quick demonstration showed her how it was done. Early or even mid-thirties on closer inspection, lines on her face covered with make-up. Thank you so much was usually Filipina form, though this woman was taller than average. Maxie had told recently how in the early hours the hostesses might be picked up for even $30 or $40; doubtless for an overnight stay some more was needed. Had the uncle upstairs calculated how many years he had left; years of some kind of good function? Lonely nights difficult for him to endure? There was some kind of theft of youth in such unions in Chinese thinking. In encounters the man only ever mimed helloes, never uttering. Once weekly his white Toyota got a thorough soapy washing.