a snail goes for a walk
in search of gentler sunshine
not knowing it will be her last
I take my time, blinking slowly, back at Toby, who doesn’t seem to love sitting on me as much as he does my sister.
He, like me, has spread his body across the cold floor.
Nearby, and even nearer now, Lucky approaches, loathe to allow Toby any lion’s share of affection.
“This house has a dog and a cat,” his underbite insists, “not a cat and a dog.”
Ang Mo Kio Avenue 3 is a heavy-duty road and an elderly man was walking on the tarmac, tottering forward on bad knees, palms pressed onto a hard cart handle.
Before his feet, the wheels of his overloaded cart were gnarly nubs that would never glide again.
I braked before him. “Do you want to come onto the pavement, Uncle?”