So no we’ve come to the end. This is the last of it. The last of the pairs. the last time I’ll see that extra name that haunts me on a printed piece of paper. I don’t think I’ll ever have the audacity to plan that far into the future for anyone besides myself.

This is a trip that almost did not happen. If I were a believer of signs, I should’ve probably just cancelled it, but I am stubborn. I want to keep going. It’s as if there is a lot riding on this trip. What that is exactly, I don’t know.

I down two pills that promises some relief: one from the cough that decided to infect me Sunday. Another from a burgeoning cold that I am hoping so bad would not happen. Also, another Strepsils tablet to stop the prevailing itch in my throat that has been screaming to get out. I got stared at already after a quick coughing fit. Sorry, world. I cant promise not to infect you.

The metal chairs inside the terminal are hard and uncomfortable, but as always, I make do. A few hours of discomfort in exchange for what promises to be an adventure. I didn’t mind.

I had started reading my second book earlier, but then, quickly stopped. I have seven days in Malaysia by myself, and I know that some–if not all–might be spent alone. I probably have to reserve the book for later, when I’m back in one of the hostels I will be staying at one night and internet is hard to come by, and I am bored. So, instead, I resort to people watch.

In front of me is a restaurant. NOOODLES, it said in red. I am looking at this picture of Penang Curry Noodle Soup and now find myself craving what I know would be something nice and warm and good. But as with reading, I curb the cravings. I’ll try it in Penang in a few days, when I get there.

The old man to my left stares at my tattooed arm and clears his throat again. I wonder if he thinks I am a misfit. People started getting up and pushing their trollies towards one of the check-in counters. A queue started to form. Some folks who were sleeping on the floor beside the metal chair I am on have started to stir. It’s not daylight yet, but some activity has started. What was dead quiet a few minutes earlier had now risen back to life.

There are still three hours until I have to move out of this chair into another one on a bus. Time is slow when you are waiting. It’s a good thing there’s wi-fi.

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