Knocks on the door at 3:00AM are always bad news.
I love my dad, but I don’t trust him.
I don’t know what my second brother was thinking when he decided that it would be a good idea to put mum, dad, and the both of us in a confined space together for six days.
Every morning while I get ready for work, I would see my Ah Ma sitting in the rattan chair at our front porch, enjoying the early morning wind. Her eyes stare blankly at the moving traffic; her mind replaying the days of her youth.
“You were born in China, right?” “No. My passport says China, but I was born in Panipahan, Indonesia,” Chu replied nonchalantly. The revelation was dumbfounding.