Esther Chiew Jing Jye

How foreign those words seem. And just about a year and a half ago, they mean the world to me.

The rib pokes, I'll never forget them.

The silly train rides to Ang Mo Kio, I still re-visit them, occasionally.

The way she says, 'Serious?!', echoing in my mind every now and then, the reverberations bringing back memories so fond.

The elastic band that she'd given me, I wore till it got so worn out, now resides in a compartment of my old wallet.

The bridge of balloons I did for her, on her last day of work.

The single pink balloon that I'd given her earlier, one that I told her contains magical balloon dust and would result in duplicates of balloons once the air inside was released.

The chemistry I had with the skies that particular night - it was starless and with a full moon, that led to my tale.

I'd mentioned how beautiful the moon was. Her prompt reply was that it was a pity there weren't any stars. My response to that had been, '天上不是没有星星，而是我把它们都摘下来了。'

And the capsules of emotions that were her tears, sliding from her eyes.

Forgive me, I need to write about this.

Thank you for everything.