I am waiting for R at Arbor Brewery and I am excited. I miss my friends. All the more when we make plans to meet in the near future or like today, when I am barely minutes away from meeting one of them. Not that I was not fond of them when we were together in college. Perhaps I am fonder now, because I realize it may be months, or years before I see them again. Precious.

Arbor is a nice place. It is spacious, has wooden benches and stools, which are not at all placed close to each other. Music serves as a gentle background to the persistent buzz of conversation. I am thinking how much I love Saturday evenings. I like having Saturdays off. I walked from Garuda mall to Arbor in the rain, wearing a hoodie I had just purchased. There is a past life connection between me and black hoodies, I think. Something that goes very deep. As far as I can remember, I have always had a black hoodie in my wardrobe, at all times. This one has white stripes on the inside of the hood and is very warm. Maybe it is the warmth of my drink. Or maybe it is the sight of warm wood tables and the vast grainy floor.

There is a couple on the table to the side. The girl part of the couple is eyeing me suspiciously as though people sitting by themselves are capable of walking up to strangers and stealing the umbrellas from their drinks, at any given moment. Metaphorically, of course. Arbor does not put umbrellas in the drinks they serve. The ice has nicely melted into my drink and it has turned from the colour of rusted apple to tap water. I have been reading Maps for lost lovers. The book has such lovely similes. There is one that likens a train travelling through tunnels to a needle threading a necklace of beads. No wonder it took him eight years to write this book. I should call up R and find out where she is.