Before despair hit Juita she was a beautiful girl. An oval face with a pointed chin and a ready smile. On a particular evening, beside the straits of malacca, on a balcony overlooking the pool and construction on the shorefront, she shone. Giving out light.
I lighted her cigarette afterward and we watched tv. It was Zaiton we were watching. In black and white, Sudin knocking bottles at his window, a motorcycle on the roof and noisy neighbours.
I was on the sofa and she was on the floor. My knees at the back of her neck and my eyes transfixed as she tightened her scrunchie. I squinted at the smoke she exhaled.
“You’d look good in glasses” she said.
“I wore them for a while in secondary school. It was totally a vanity thing. I lost it in like a month. Nerdy tortoiseshell type.” I reminisced.
“Well you should wear them now. I think you look better with glasses on. Like rectangular ones. I like those,” she offered.
“Yeah like the ones Nassier Wahab rock. Slightly tinted. You know why?” I asked
“Because he’s a vampire. Think about it for while. He’s like what, forty? Jeez, he’s fucking immortal. And those lips, man.”