Before the Storm

Happy Halloween guys. The spirits bend over the earth and sigh. And somewhere in Bangsar, a girl huddles in her blankets and wakes up crying.

"He's not even my type! Why am I reacting like this?" she wails. And sinks under the sheets sobbing.

Somewhere else, a woman wakes up tired. "I sleep and sleep and sleep and yet I'm knackered. What can be happening."

And I, I cry in my sleep. Having read Colette and The Dark is Rising and The Awakening all at once. A friend calls and tells me his grandfather just passed away. At 90. He's still sad. Last week was tough. But he's coping now. He sounds a little high. And I wonder.

Everywhere, everywhere the dark leans down and sucks out the joy. Ragged teary faces emerge, drained of happiness.

An eyebrow is threaded. Nice? Not nice? Who knows? Naz of the swollen belly works her magic with the thread. Hairs plucked. Eyebrows shaped. She works at home so you need to know where she is, to go there. You call first.

A Pay Less bookshop yields treasures. Tomorrow there's a book sale. More treasures. And I still haven't finished all the books from last year. More books. More books. More books.

Sometimes, there is a hush before a storm.

You hold your breath, waiting for something to happen, knowing that it will be major.