Simei MRT Station.

He was old.

A head of grey and a hunched back from long hours of work.

He looked tired and took the empty seat right next to me. He made sure his things did not hit me, which was nice, and just sat there quietly. He stared vacantly out of the window at the scenery go past before he took out his scratched Nokia phone out of his front pouch to check for messages or calls.

None.

While he was placing his phone back where he took it from, the baby at the end of the carriage caught his attention.

The baby was happy – laughing, giggling and smiling at his mother while clapping his hands loudly. And so young, so innocent and so energetic.

I half-expected to see a smile appear on the old man’s face. Most times, babies make the older generation happy for some reason. But his face was just a blank expression, as he continued watching the baby from afar.

For a moment, I thought I saw a glimpse of sadness cross his eyes.

And I wonder, if the baby simply reminded him of everything he has lost.

 

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