It’s past 11 p.m., and the rules have been relaxed. The paunchy, slimy-looking expat men are showing up with their would-be lays. (Their nervous self-consciousness is quite damning.) I’m looking at a taxi that’s just arrived, and I’m thinking, ‘Booty call.’ These apartments are more hotel than residence, and the tenants are correspondingly sleazy.
But: I am lounging on a pair of chairs with my feet happily bare in the night air. It is remarkably quiet where I am (especially considering how I’m only about three stops away or so from Orchard), and I have coffee. Bliss like this is hard to find, cigarette smoke and sleaze or no. (They at least try to be discreet.)
‘discreet’ or ‘discrete’? and you could have just said
“i saw horny men late at night. i had coffee.”
haha
Comment by jingen — 19 July 2008 @ 7:42 pm
Oops. That’s been corrected. And with regards to your other suggestion, I suppose I just hope they actually READ my version first. :p
Comment by Cuthbert — 20 July 2008 @ 10:22 pm
[...] about by my illness. That ended spectacularly tonight at my favorite coffee place (remembered here, heh). The brew for today was the same as the one I had the bad judgment to try at Jurong Point two [...]
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