March 26, 2012

My dearest,

It’s going to rain. We can hear the rumble in the clouds. The trees are swaying, a rustling orchestra. Leaves tumble and roll over our balcony floor. It’s like a scene from a Western, minus the dust (our cleaner came by yesterday).

You are sitting on the floor, in front of your computer. You select, discard, sharpen and perfect the colours of that glass of ice drip tomato coffee I had yesterday. You look so serious in your concentration.

I take out the pot of lor hon kor (arhat fruit) drink I made last night from the fridge. I put the pot on the stove and turn on the gas. Some minutes later, I pour the hot drink into two porcelain mugs. One for you, one for me. Yours have a few rehydrated dried longans for you to chew on; I drink mine neat.

It’s going to rain. We sip slowly and continue our work. It’s a beautiful day.

Yours, ever and always.