One of those situations.

No drawings to share but a tale of a bus stop, an ice-cream man, and a liar. I live in a corner house and across the road are a park and a bus stop. 15 years ago, it would be the busiest bus stop of the area and being the busiest, it was inevitably the noisiest and dirtiest. Soon buses were rerouted but the bus stop remained. Silent, now that marbled bench under brick roofs now regularly housed for 3 old men who have made it their gossip tavern and on a daily basis meet there to talk and exchange views. One of them would always come with a 'tongkat' in hand, the other seems to wear nothing but a 'sarong' everyday, and the third man, well he seems pretty inconspicuous, except his socks were very often pulled up too high. Today, at about 6pm it was empty. An odd sight. Even odder was that on my return from the city, I had experienced 'one of those situations'. 'One of those situations' in this context means one of those situation whereby you always think you were prepared to encounter or chance upon it and to a certain extent 'know you would' but when it really does happen, it catches you off guard and leaves you with a choking aftertaste. That is 'one of those situations'. As I turn into my lane, the ice-cream man, a 30-ish man, skinny as a twig, was dutifully making his rounds. He was pushing an equivalently slim black bicycle which carried a huge ice box at the back. He rang his bell every 4 steps or so. He steered it aside for me to pass and I smiled. After I parked my car, I walked to the bus stop across my house which was quaintly empty today. I sat down, reflecting upon 'one of those situations' which I had just encountered. Unmindful of how many minutes had passed, I was awoken by the chimes of the ice-cream man's bell that was now loudening. He had reached the other end of the road from when I had smiled at him and he was now near the bus stop. Me, elbow to knee, palm to jaw, raised my head and tipped my chin a little, again I smiled at this 30-ish skinny twig of a man. He returned the smile and raised me wave. Somehow he stopped, both movement and his consistent bell ringing. He stared at me a little while. I raised my eyebrows to signal "What's up ice cream man?" Though I believe it was unconvincing considering how little expression I show on a daily basis while thinking I give good facial cues. He opened the top of his ice box, dug through his icy chest, making sounds that were akin to dry autumn leaves rustling on the tarmac. He pulled out an orange ice cream bar. The one I used to love as a kid. The one that was so orange by the time you're done, not only will your lips be orange, even half the stick turned orange. That one. He extended his arm and handed the orange bar to me, its packaging still full of broken bits of ice. He side-nodded his head, people here, we understand this gesture as "it's yours, yes, no, and even I don't know." Why would an ice cream man give you an ice cream, your favourite ice cream, just because you had a face like stone supported by your palms against your jaw line, your elbow resting uncomfortably on your knee? He wouldn't, because everything I typed after "he steered it aside for me to pass and I smiled," was a lie. It never happened. I parked my car, glanced at the empty bus stop. For awhile I stood motionless looking at the empty marble seats, wondering if this 'tale' I had generated in that short period of time between first seeing the ice cream man and parking in my house, would actually happen or could actually happen. One 'one of those situations' in a day would suffice for me. Afraid to possibly experience another 'one of those situations' whereby if I had walked to the bus stop and sat, I could received an orange ice cream bar, I turned around and walked in. Hearing the bell louder, I peeked over my shoulder and saw the ice cream man walk past my front gate and vanished from sight in a mere 3 seconds. To end this story, here is a quote in which I did not heed: "Everything comes too late for those who only wait." - Elbert Hubbard Grew longer. I miss you, IMG_0449.