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Porridge Just Right

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Jacqueline knows she has to get it just right. Just right—or she’ll never hear the end of it. She ladles a few scoops of the porridge, just heated up over the stove, into a bowl. A little soy sauce, a dash of pepper. Some freshly sliced ginger. A sprinkling of spring onion. She hesitates, then adds a pinch of fried shallots over the top. She carefully places the bowl on the table, then takes a deep breath. Here we go. Upstairs, she stops in front of the first door and gently knocks on it. “Breakfast,” she says. She enters the room and draws the curtains apart, letting the just-past-sunrise light in. The old woman in the bed stirs. Even though her knees aren’t what they used to be, Jacqueline lifts the woman from the bed, lowers her into a wheelchair, then gets her dressed and washed—an awkward silent dance they’d done many times before. Finally, they’re downstairs. The old woman takes a mouthful of the porridge. “It’s too salty,” she spits. “Can’t you get it right once?” Jacqueline s...
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The Magic Stool

Ana had gotten the stool from a garage sale. She hadn’t planned to stop. She’d just happened to drive by and thought she might find some baby stuff. There wasn’t anything she needed. But when she saw the stool, standing forlornly in the yard beside a dresser missing a door and a frilly lamp with a crooked shade, she was drawn to it. She didn’t really know why. The three-legged stool was tall and sturdy, with a round top. Its wood was weathered, with odd dents and strange markings all over, as if it had endured decades of secrets. And now it was sitting in her living room, looking rather out of place. With the busyness of being a stay-at-home mum, she quickly forgot all about it. Her 4yo daughter and 2yo son were always up to mischief. And her latest addition, her 3mo son, was still not sleeping through the night. Since her firefighter husband often worked night shifts and emergencies, most days she felt like a single mum. A single mum who was barely treading above water...
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Checkmate

He sits alone by the bar, nursing a foamy draught beer that’s begun to sweat. All around him, the club is pumping. Music is throbbing, making hearts and ears pound. The DJ is riling up the crowd, the bottle girls weaving in and out between tables. A bachelorette party is downing shots. Three men nearby are eyeing the group, nudging one another to make a move. And he’s sitting alone. He doesn’t mind. He’s not here to make friends. He takes another sip of his beer, lets the cool liquid soothe his scratchy throat. He coughs. From the corner of his eye, he sees her walk in. An angel . The first thing he notices is her lips—blood-red, glossy, and enticing. Her blonde curls sway. The gold sequins on her dress catch the flickering lights, making her glitter. She leans over the bar as she settles herself onto the high stool. “One margarita, please,” her voice a velvety alto. He shivers. I have to talk to her . He takes a sip of liquid courage, then walks up to her, be...
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Silver Bodycon Dress

“H-How long have you been standing there?” Taylor gulped. “How could you!” Jamie turned and left the room. Taylor ran after Jamie, out into the hall. “You must’ve misunderstood me.” Jamie stopped. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t.” “That was… That was just a friend.” “Sure it was.” A beat. “How long has this been going on?” “How long has what been going on? Nothing’s been going on, Jamie.” Taylor straightened up. “Stop being so paranoid.” “So you were just going to meet this friend at home alone? At this hour?” “They’re having trouble sleeping. I’m just trying to help. You’re being insecure.” Jamie started pacing. “I’m being insecure? Are you fucking kidding me?” Jamie threw their hands in the air. “They had to call you over if they can’t sleep? Come on. Listen to music, take a pill, go for a damn walk. Make it make sense!” “You’ve gone to a friend’s house when it was late, too. What’s the big deal?” “That was my best friend , Tay. And her father had just died.” ...
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Two Tables for Two

Without meaning to, she’d arranged two dates for the same evening. She didn’t even realise, until one of them pinged her an hour before the date. Hey, so we’re on for later, right? And she thought, Who is this? Oh, shit. It’s Daniel. I’m supposed to meet him, too! Daniel’s profile pic showed him looking a little nerdy—like Spider-Man nerdy. But they shared a lot of common interests—anime, movies, cosplay. Okay, she was probably kind of nerdy, too. But Bryan? Bryan was hot. Like, K-drama oppa hot—complete with smooth skin, abs, and all. At least, that’s how he appears on his profile. She was surprised Bryan had swiped right on her at all. He was gorgeous, whereas she was the kind of pretty that mums would say was “prettier on the inside”. She’d been happy to just chat with Daniel without meeting up. But he’d been persistent. Very persistent. But she’d already imagined what it’d be like dating Bryan. Cue him running after her in the rain, both absolutely soaked, pull...
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Remember What Mama Said

“Come, Mia. We’re here.” Ling gets down from the car and opens the back passenger seat. Mia and her brother Min appear behind Ling, meekly holding hands. “Just give me a minute,” Ling says. She unbuckles the baby’s car seat, swiftly sweeps her up in her arms. The children watch quietly as Ling wrestles the stroller out from the boot of the car. She swears under her breath when it gets stuck, then takes a deep breath as it finally sets and she places the baby into it. “Let’s go.” No one speaks as they make their way to the entrance of the supermarket. Ling stops abruptly, turns to Mia. “Remember what Mama said.” She sweeps a stray strand of hair from Mia’s pale face, her hand trembling. Mia slowly nods. ** The fluorescent lights are blinding, making every aisle seem exposed. Ling pulls her sweater closer around her as the air conditioning blasts chilly air. She glances at the children—Mia wearing sleeveless and Min in shorts. She leans down into the stroller to t...
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The Road Out

Tonight’s the night . I lean over the balcony, prop my face up with my hands, and take a deep breath. It smells like rain. Though the rain might complicate my plans for later, I feel surprisingly calm. I watch the coconut tree, its leaves swaying in the wind. The twilight sky, with its pink-purple swirls, reminds me of the Mat Kool popsicles my dad used to buy me. The ice cream uncle would come around our neighbourhood on his motorbike in the evenings. The moment I heard his beeping horn, I’d run outside, yelling, “Pa! Pa! The ice cream uncle is here!” My dad would jog out after me, laughing, picking coins out of his wallet. “Nah,” he’d say, getting two popsicles in exchange. We’d sit side by side on the concrete slab outside our gate, the popsicles dripping onto the tar road under the humid evening sun. We’d see people coming home from work, in their suits and ties. Pa always looked at them quietly. I never understood why. ** It’s been ten years since my dad passed...
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