Wednesday, 3.17pm, at my desk.

The Drilling Continues.

Although by now I've kind of gotten used to it. The funny thing is that instead of using contractors, or whatever you call people you pay to renovate your old HDB[3] flat, the father and son are working as a team.

I know because my desk faces the window of their apartment so I can't help but see them fiddling with the driller. Or whatever it's called.

I can't believe I'm staring at them instead of trying to work through my Geography. Human Geog is tough. Especially Tourism.

They don't look like they're tourists to me.

What am I talking about? Tourists don't buy apartments in Singapore. Unless they're rich. And have a lot of time on their hands.

The son looks like he's in Poly. Maybe second year. So maybe that's why he has time to help drill stuff on the walls. Like this framed painting of a vast field. The field has nothing on it except a tree. And a swing. A wooden one with ropes.

He has dark jet black hair and tan skin. I think he's about a head taller than I am, but I can't be sure. I like his eyes. They're chocolate brown. Unlike mine, which are just plain black. Or ebony, if you want to be fanciful with words.

He's distinctly Asian. But is he Chinese, like I am? Or is he Japanese? Or Korean?

Will he like me? As a neighbour, of course. I'm pretty friendly. I say 'Hi' and 'Bye' to people in the lift, and sometimes I bring over some Hakka Abacus if we happen to make some at home to the neighbours.

I wonder if he likes yam.

Will they stop their drilling if I ask?

I don't even know how many days left there is till doomsday anymore. Distractions are not a good sign. Especially if you're supposed to be revising on Tourism and there's a test tomorrow.

He's laughing now. I can hear his laughter. Deep.

Geography Test! Melanie! Snap out of it!


[3] HDB = Housing Development Board. Duh.