Another -- Anamnesis
I was finally home after my wet market duty at 4:00am. I had been lugging around about seven kilos of fresh meat and produce from one city to another. My sandals were mucky, slightly slippery, and smelled of chicken liver and fish scales. I smelled of fish scales and exhaust pipes. My hair was mussed-up, and I wanted a bed badly.
James had the above song playing. The stroller handle and vegetable bayong were out of my hands, and beside the table. My eyes had forgotten how to focus. I felt my arms being lifted around a neck, and another pair of arms finding their way around my waist.
Then, slow, subtle swaying. A warm and gentle nose nuzzling my cheek.
I guess he knew how worked up I could get on a wet market run. And I think I remember asking him why we haven’t ever slow-danced yet. We slow-danced to the ending theme of a horror-suspense anime, and it was warm and lovely.