The woman stood out like a sore thumb. Well, her scarlet headscarf was probably redder than a sore thumb, but that was besides the point. Even if she had been wearing any other color, she would still have looked out of place in the dingy establishment. She was too clean, too refined to be at the mamak. Yet here she was at a table, nursing a cup of what looked like tea. My mind went through the possibilities: warm black tea, no sugar. Coffee that's black as night. Also no sugar. A woman like that would probably watch her weight like crazy, judging from the slender hand that snaked around her cup.
Have to look good even when you're an aging mother, huh, I mused inwardly. That thought was laced with a lot more bitterness than I had anticipated. We had only exchanged a few words over the phone, and yet here I was, already making an enemy out of her. I heaved a sigh, and unfurled my fingers. Was it my fault that her p