Little did I know that he was standing right beside me as I was trying hurriedly to call somone on my mobile. And I must say, he looks damn fine.

Me: He looks so different without his mask on.
Clara: How can he?
Me: Man, he’s hot!
Clara: *sigh*

Lost in the swirly colour-coded perfumery embrace of his charm - me trying to steal unashamed glances (for they are afterall free) - TT and Laura tsk-tsked their way till lunch time. Undeniably, this lack of friendly support shall not deter these irrepressible feelings.

(Lunchtime)
Me: So I saw him this morning yeah, and he was waaay cute.
Jimi: I don’t understand it, what’s so attractive about him?
Me: *dreamily* In so many ways, Jimi; in infinite ways.
Jimi: (turns to friend) Can you imagine that I had to act as Cupid for this girl?
Friend: What?! But he’s just..normal. Hardly a cause for celebration.
Me: Men are known to be quite picky when it comes to checking out other men - if they must. And I never told you to do it, Jimi!
Jimi: So was he wearing it?
Me: No ring still; you should up your research mettle a little bit more, you’re doing a shitty job.
Jimi: You could have at least thanked me for trying!

At the risk of sounding extremely airy-fairy - for indeed it feels quite acceptable to be reduced to a girlish tween at this stage of life - never have I giggled, nor felt my heart thump so wildly on a crush. It’s like high school, but the rewards are so much greater.

It’s a good distraction; I need this after what has happened this year.

That Friday was such an eventful moment; I spent the whole day with Yanty, tagging along as she ran her errands and sending her son from soccer class to silat. In the car, we had our deep discussions - always on religion, constantly touching on our common culture (for she is part Indonesian) and releasing our frustrations on current loves. I have been friends with her for what seems like so long, comfortable silences sometimes creep into our conversations.

Our friendship has gone through leaps and bounds: from a chance meeting in the wards, to late night discussions over coffee, to birthday bashes and housewarming parties that have cemented our relations. Here she is - more than a decade older than me, filling in for a sisterly role that had previously always been empty.

Honesty was the main theme of our dissertation that Friday. I can’t thank her enough for playing that integral a character in my emotional imbalance, turning the tides when I thought all other paths were closed. And what she said that night made sense; what she said lifted the burden from my shoulders - that the most important thing right now is to conserve and build the cordial bridges that have been set up between him and me.

At times, I think selfishly of how I had believed I was always on the receiving end; that it is possible that he must have been a victim many times over. Not that we hurt each other; it’s just that we search for meaning in so many different ways.

A couple of days ago, as Kara and me were on our way to see a Surg consult, I saw him from the corner of my eye. I wish I could say that I had one emotion running through me; what it was instead was a mixture of aching, indifference, anger, sadness and care. As we were presenting the patient to my Reg, he strolled carelessly behind me, making little noises to attract my attention. And in between the numerous glimpses, the little peeks from the glass panes within the crowded confinements of the four walls that contained what feelings we had left, he winked and I smiled. Because this time, even saying something as simple as a ‘Hello’ was too difficult. Anticipating a reply would be more even more unbearable.

I called Yanty soon after.