The cold from inside

The time of the appointment was 4pm and the face of her watch read 4.03pm.

It was a gloomy afternoon. The road was wet and dirty, with puddles of rainwater collected in potholes and fallen leaves strewn along the pavements. School had just ended for some, as teenage girls clad in blue pinafores and white blouses emerged from the schoolgates, running towards the coffeeshop to make their way to the bus stop. Excitable young children from a nearby nursery had assembled at the void deck. Their teachers were struggling to speak amidst the screeching of the children, the splattering of the rain and the bustle of noise, as they tried to organise the little ones into groups for a play activity.

Up above in the skies, dark clouds gathered to prepare for another round of heavy showers. They were eager to pour out their wrath, declaring their war with roars of thunder and threatening to hurl bolts of lightning onto the earth. Moments later, rain started to descend from the sky. What began as a light drizzle, gradually transformed to larger raindrops, and eventually to a heavy downpour.

An elderly lady sat at the void deck, resting her worn out legs which barely survived a recent fall. She had to undergo a risky operation and weeks of rehabilitation before she was able to walk again with a walking aid. Now that a few months had passed, she was due to see the doctor again. This elderly lady was slightly grumpy, slightly naggy, slightly stubborn, slightly distrustful. But despite her idiosyncracies, she was also kind, appreciative, independent, strong and likeable in her own ways. The wrinkles on her face were evidence of her humble experiences and decades of hardship, her eyes a reflection of her worries and regrets from the yesteryears.

A stranger was standing on the street. Armed with a tote bag on her shoulder, a shoebag in her arms and an umbrella in her hands, she was desperate to get a taxi. Her attempts to call a cab were futile, as she was continuously placed on hold and made to listen to incessant repetitions from an automated answering machine. Taxis after taxis drove past, but all of them refused to pick her up. They gave her reasons like "Need to change shift", "Need to pump petrol", "Need to go to XYZ", when her destination was less than ten minutes away, and petrol kiosks could be found within the next two to three hundred metres.

When an old white cab finally stopped in front of her, she was under the impression that help had arrived. She then made a request for the taxi driver to reverse his vehicle approximately 10 metres to pick up another person who has difficulty walking. Before she could finish her sentence, he shook his head, made the remark "No, no, too troublesome", wind up his window and drove away.

The stranger was dumbfounded. Now, she was not only desperate, but dejected, demoralised and in complete disbelief. Left with little choice, she reluctantly made her way out onto the main road. After a few more rejections, a blue cab finally picked her up at 4.30pm, its driver an aged man with a stoic face. The moment she got onto the cab, she found herself uncontrollably overwhelmed with sorrow. She could not believe how difficult this simple task had become, and the length of time it took. She was frozen stiff not from the chill of the rain, but from the coldness she felt from people's hearts. As the cab cruised through two right turns and a few blocks down the road, she wept and wept.

Then the cab stopped in front of the void deck. The elderly lady had already stood up with an anxious and impatient look on her face. The stranger took a quick glance at the mirror, and hurriedly cleaned off any evidence of despondency. She got out of the cab, opened the umbrella, and waved at the elderly lady with a smile.