The morning began with Bak kwa bread and a glimpse into someone else’s joy — a baby turning nine months, her smile lighting up a Facebook live. Mum rushed us out as the workers arrived, and we caught bus 28 instead of 29. I bumped my arm while alighting, wincing from the sudden sting.

We took the MRT toward Paya Lebar, then bus 24 to Ang Mo Kio — a journey of transfers and unexpected touches. I bumped into someone on the train, holding the bar as strangers quietly stepped aside. Mum inquired about EZ-link cards, but the counter had none.

We arrived at the Two Herbs hair treatment shop at 9:30. The staff asked if I had eaten. I replied simply, “Bak kwa bread.” She touched my bag as she guided me through — herbal first, then collagen. Mum tapped my thigh to keep me informed. I waited, quiet. A woman said goodbye to the room; I didn’t reply. Not out of rudeness, just a momentary stillness.

Afterwards, I wandered in the rain in search of lunch. Aunty pointed the way. Birds splashed something at my face — I didn’t stop. I passed durians, damp ground, and found the hawker centre. I had scallop pao fan. Mum queued for char kway teow, but the stall dimmed its lights — a sign to come earlier next time.

We still had groceries to buy at NTUC. The day felt long, but full. In movement, in waiting, in bites and bumps — I existed quietly within it all.