Disconnect

It’s dark as we drive back. I rub my arms and ask the guys to turn down the air-con. The dull ache in my gut has dissipated, but it has not been a good day. Diz and G left me far behind — no fault of theirs, but my non-performance has rattled me. Especially after Malek — one of the legends — had told me it was time to kick it up a gear… because I was ready.

So what happened?

Just an off day, I tell myself, as I sit waiting for the boys to be done, my muscles stiffening in the cooling air. But no, it wasn’t just the non-performance. It was that vicious upwelling of anger too. I thought I was bigger than that.

Pulling into myself, I grab my phone, compose a quick message. Khui replies. I feel something grab me, lift me. My dangerous Boer — always feel safest with you.

They’re ready to go. Only two routes, but I’m spent. My attempts to take a quick nap before dinner are sabotaged. Diz is trying to get advice on whether he should pursue a project management opportunity or a sales position. Like I’d know. But my ears perk up as he speaks animatedly of the renewable energy industry in Malaysia.

Over dinner, the need for sleep uncoils the knot inside me. But something feels… dormant, still, inside me. Like a switch I forgot to flip. So the light stays off.