"Will you miss it?" Jenn asked as we started down the stairs.

"No," I told her without a thought, and it was only later that I realized how true that is. It didn't even occur to me to cast one last glance over my shoulder at the majestic Singapore skyline and our gorgeous rooftop view.

Not gonna miss that.

It's become a mantra these last weeks, when a car pulls forward with no purpose other than to obstruct my path, when the guy sitting next to me at the bus stop lights up a cigarette, when the woman at the hair salon cuts my bangs crooked one last time.

Not gonna miss that.

When people rush to board the MRT without allowing anyone first to get off.

Not gonna miss that.

When my cellphone crackles in and out of reception.

Not gonna miss that.

When I buy grapes and a yogurt at the grocery store and have to intervene to leave with only one plastic bag.

Not gonna miss that.

Stuffed with The Last Supper from First Thai, we nonetheless lingered over four shared sinful desserts, reluctant in the face of one last inevitable good-bye. Finally, Bailey's soufflé demolished, profiterole plate cleaned, overpriced Evian drunk, we tearfully hugged dear friends outside Raffles City, then headed on our separate way for one last ride on the MRT.

Jim's arm 'round my waist, I leaned my head on his shoulder. "Saying good-bye to people I love... Definitely not gonna miss that."

venitha
Posted from Narita (Tokyo, Japan)