Wearisome

Teh oh limau sikit, sikit, sikit gula still arrived over sweetened. The old snow-haired from last night rocked up again for his late evening meal. As did same time the young bearded with his piece of cardboard, seated on the path above leaning on the clipped hedge. No sign of active begging there—on its own the man’s figure was more than enough. The former withdrew an orangey-red RM10 from a tattered wallet, which was far more than the other could produce for the life of him. When the plate arrived shortly after a green RM5 was returned to Snowy; $4.50 cheap meal. Coming along half hour earlier, shortly before 8, night fallen properly not so long ago, another little oldie had found himself a narrow sunken space in which to insert himself by the path hard against the hoarding. It looked at first as if the man was assuming a squat for a discreet number 2. Some twisting and wriggling had him suddenly dropping completely from view, more than ready to zonk immediately. The day of course had been a trial. Few hours before in 420 in the darkened room again, the one in the middle of the corridor off from the covered inner courtyard of the hotel, a 20 minute doze had overcome under the a/c. For no good reason—apart from the heat always on the Equator—the day had wearied more than one. Unexpectedly, Dah’s mention of breast augmentation had addled the brain. A good, intelligent Achenese slipping along that decline.