I leave my home and it’s still dark.
I side-step through prowling dogs and lounging cats. I look at the moon, still peeking from its blanket, and I think, I just might make it.
I sleep through the 45-minute FX ride. It’s difficult as I’m being squished between two strangers and there’s nowhere to rest my head. But sometimes I’m too sleepy to notice.
A few meters away from the train terminal, I jolt awake. Everyone else stirs. I’m just like them.
I get in line to get on the train. Thirty minutes later, I’m still in line. How is this fair?
At last, I am able to swipe my card and get into the platform. A train arrives and I join the women (I’m on the women’s car) in pushing and shoving each other to get in. No one thinks you’re rude for it, unless you take it personally. It’s just the way of (the MRT) life.
I squeeze into the farthest part of the train, grab a pole and stare at the dozens of faces who waited to get in. It’s like a zombie horde without the flesh cravings. Though they do have the crazy eyes.
The next think I know, I’m staring at buildings going past. Then it’s faces again. Then buildings. Then faces.
The pushing and shoving resume as I get out on my stop. I begin my usual solitary trek to the office.
I get there, the familiar grey building, and no one else is in sight. Well, except for the guard who smiles when he sees me. The cubicles are empty and the lights are still off. My footsteps are muffled by the burgundy carpet and I try to avoid looking at through the glass windows of the empty rooms. You never know what you’ll see.
My table comes into view and I set down my things. I sit down myself, turn on the computer and let its glow be the first light to enter the entire floor.
My day has begun.