As you cross the noisy road, imagine you are in that old game you played when you were eight - where you dodged left and right, up and down. Dodged the robots that sped towards you, faster each level. Run then pause. Wave wildly at the frowning old man in the blue Toyota and scamper the rest of the way when he brakes for you. Scream as you narrowly miss being hit by a cursing okada man. Let out a long whoosh of breath when you are safely in front of the bank’s reflective windows. Whisper: Land.
Ma hated my laughter. She said it was fake: that I laughed like I am forced to. As if I am expelling something unwanted in me. She says it was empty. I laughed again, and Ma squeezed her eyes in ire.