I got up and took my hour and a half long bus ride to the office in Sunset Way.
Just like I used to, for three and a half weeks straight during Youth Matters' rehearsals, I picked myself up two small chicken pies and an ice-coffee. The only difference being that it wasn't accompanied with a smoke.
I sat down, opposite Thomas and his Chee Chong Fun-
Breakfasting in this office for the last time.
Everything feels the same in such an impossibly different way.
I'm not particularly resistant to change,
I'm not.
And I suppose everything will always feel too fast for my liking.
But I can pack.
I'm good at packing. After all, three, four times over, I've had to pack my entire life into cardboard boxes.
I can do this.
The movers are here.
They always come a just a wee bit early-
and never, when we feel ready.
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