The twinkling lights of the city acted as markers for the geography of the island. They wove through the buildings, rising and falling around the hills. The man was transfixed on a dark patch in the distance. It eclipsed the light just beyond it– it must have been some kind of large hill. From the heart of it rose the solitary twinkling red light of a radio tower. It looked like a little buoy in a black ocean.
“That hill is Bukit Timah. It’s one of the last nature preserves.” The boy was standing to his right. The sea breeze was to their backs, and it pushed the boy's hair forward steadily, covering the side of his face. His hand was resting on the railing. It was pale and soft, his long fingers gently grasping onto the handrail. The boy turned to the right, pointing to a stretch of flat land further in the distance. Only half of it was developed, with a rail line encircling a dense cropping of buildings. The other side was mostly empty, with only a few low buildings near the coast.
“That was the ocean only five years ago. It’s all reclaimed land. The eastern half is only governmental offices,” the boy curled his index finger towards him, and then straightened towards a long solitary building. “Like the DMI.”
The boy turned to face him. The wind tossed his hair over part of his face, and he lazily pulled it behind his ear. He must have been no older than nineteen or twenty. His face was as soft and pale as his hands. He had a plain, inoffensive look, save for a deep red birthmark that pooled in the outer corner of his right eye and disappeared into the blackness of his hair.
“Yes, their director met with Representative Katz of Germany today. During their conversation, I was told they were quite… sheepish.”
“Sheepish.” The boy retorted.
“Yes, sheepish. They were reluctant to talk about the incident in Tanglin. Their report was apparently cursory.”
The boy was facing the city again. “They didn’t mention Kranji? Jurong?”
“No, not yet. Though, they might notice soon enough.”
“Maybe.” The boy shrugged in response. “There might be nothing to notice, soon enough.”
The man gave a hearty laugh. “Wouldn’t that be nice. I think I’ve been here long enough. Longer than that wet little island has been around.” He blinked at the small blot that was the DMI headquarters. The boy glared at the man incredulously.
“For someone who’s been here so long, you’re rather ignorant of your home then, aren’t you?”
“No,” the man scratched his chin with his thumb. “I know that quite well. This is not my home.” He began to laugh harder. “Enjoy these lights while you can. My home looks nothing like this.”
The little red light in darkness of Bukhit Tima glistened in the distance.