Who did I meet today? Loads of people - I watched Rent today at Kallang Theatre. Rather muffled sound system, I must say. Anyway, let's pick one person. A young woman with short hair and a peach-coloured blouse sat in front of me. Who is she? Maybe she's a Lynn.

The Trip Home

The house lights came on and Lynn stood up, feeling her legs stretch satisfyingly after the long performance she'd just sat through. She patted her short, cropped hair, carefully making sure that no errant strands stood out. Her fingers encountered her left ear and she gently grasped the little hairs on her sideburn between her middle and ring finger and, making a delicate little arc around the curve of her ear, tucked the hair behind it. She brought her fingers back and tucked the same little hairs behind her ear, following the same little arc. And she repeated. Arc, tuck. Arc, tuck. Arc...

"Your sideburns are gonna look the same no matter what you do with them, dearie." Her friend's teasing made her pause for a moment; and then she finished her fifth and final tuck before reluctantly putting her hand down.

The walk up the aisle towards the auditorium exit was relatively easy as there were no steps. She had a single phrase from the musical stuck in her head, and it repeated itself over and over in her head like a broken record. Seasons of loooooooove. Seasons of loooooooove.

Upon reaching the foyer, she stopped in her tracks to examine the floor. Good - it wasn't tiled.

She headed for the stairs, and then paused again at the top, causing a few annoyed people behind her to step aside to go around her. Lynn looked at the long, continuous flight of stairs, wondering how on earth she should know which foot to take the first step with. Uncomfortably, she realised she would just have to take a chance. Alright, left foot first. As she approached the bottom of the stairs, she was mildly dismayed to see that she had made the wrong choice. Firmly holding on to the handrail, she gingerly skipped the last step, hence succeeding in ending the flight of stairs on her right foot. Relieved, she bade her friend goodbye and set out to find the bus stop.

Small cracks and occasional fissures on the pavement kept her looking downward most of the way to the bus stop, fixedly scanning the white concrete for imperfections. She carefully stepped over every line and crack, always with her right foot, never making any contact with the lines, tiptoeing where necessary. It was a long walk and a bright, hot day, and she started to feel tense and tired of squinting at the pavement. She was relieved when she finally reached the bus stop.

Once under the comforting shade of the bus stop, she checked her watch - it was exactly thiry-eight minutes past five in the evening - then looked up to watch for the bus. Under her breath, she counted, "One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thousand..." When she reached sixty, she checked her watch again. It was exactly thirty-nine minutes past five. With a small smile of satisfaction, she started counting again without pausing. "One, one thousand. Two, one thousand..." Before she was through with her sixth set, the bus arrived. She checked her watch - it sixteen seconds shy of forty-four minutes past five in the evening.

The bus door opened and she saw there were three steps leading up, so she took the first step up with her right foot - right, left, right. Just right. Walking down the bus aisle, she was annoyed to find her Usual Seat by the fourth window on the right side taken. Annoyed, she sat down in the seat next to it, taking care not to touch the arm of the passenger sitting next to her. As the bus rumbled along, she felt increasingly insecure sitting by the aisle. She gave a sidelong glare at the offending person who had taken her Usual Seat. She started tucking her little sideburn hairs behind her left ear repeatedly in sets of five, growing more nervous with each passing minute.

Seasons of loooooooove. Seasons of loooooooove. She had liked the tune when she first heard it, but now it was like a housefly buzzing around your face that you couldn't get rid of. Seasons of loooooooove. Arc, tuck. Seasons of loooooooove. Arc, tuck...

When her stop came, she gratefully dashed off the bus, embarking on another five minutes of flight-footed avoid-the-pavement-lines fun.

When she finally arrived at her front door, she took off her left shoe, then her right, and then placed them on the shoe rack, shifting them about until she was sure they were perfectly parallel to each other.

She fished out her key and put it into the keyhole. She held her breath, and then quickly turned the key counterclockwise, shoved the door open, hurried inside and slammed it shut.

She released her breath and twisted the latch. That was one. Remember, we only need one. She regarded the latch for a moment, her hand hovering over it. Unable to resist, she unlatched the door, and latched it again. Two. Unlatch, latch. Three. Unlatch, latch. Four. Unlatch, latch. Five. Done.

She turned around to find her father watching her over his newspaper from his couch in the living room. He shook his head and muttered something about her being a silly girl before looking down at his paper to continue reading. Relief washed over Lynn. She was finally home.