Go to sleep, Mike. Go to sleep.
Why can't you sleep? The mattress was fluffier and more comfortable than what he slept on back home. The air cond kept the room just cold enough to snuggle in bed. And the thick wool covers kept him warm and cozy. But he couldn't sleep.
He kept thinking about Arisa Nakamura. For a Japanese, she had lovely wide eyes. And for a girl, she was generous with expensive words like 'thank you' and 'please'. Who would have thought that a boy from Seberang Perai and a girl from Miyazaki would find each other in downtown Singapore?
They spent that entire March afternoon holding hands and talking about the 20 years that had somehow passed without them ever knowing each other. He called her 'Ari', which she told him was Japanese for 'ant'.
Her flight to Narita Airport that night was delayed for two hours because there was news of an earthquake and tsunami that had hit Japan, but neither of them thought much of it at the time.
Waiting at the airport, she approved his Facebook friend request and wrote on his wall. That was the last he ever heard from her. Her Facebook page hasn't had an update since that day.
Go to sleep, Mike. Go to sleep.
Why can't you sleep? He couldn't stop staring at the painting above the TV. From the time he'd checked into the hotel, he'd spent more time gazing at the painting than watching the TV.
The painting brought to life a rainy evening in an American suburb. Judging by the cars and the way the people were dressed, it was probably the 1950s or 60s.Mike wondered what life was like for the folks in the painting. He wondered what the wet air smelt like.
There was something about the artwork that made him nostalgic. He longed to be one of the people there in that rain soaked twilight. Funny how it made him want to return to a place he'd never been to. To relive an era he was never a part of. And to reunite with people he'd never known.
Go to sleep, Mike. Go to sleep.
Why can't you sleep? Was it because of all the caffeine? This new project was sucking the life out of him. Too many cigarettes. Too many cups of coffee. His body felt like it had aged ten years in the last two months.
He hadn't even called home in a while. Last he spoke to Mama Stone on the phone, she was crying. Mike wished he were a better son. But then again, he could be a better son in the morning. If he were to wish for one thing right now, it would be to get some sleep.
He had a conference call in the morning with people from three different continents and then a flight to catch in the afternoon. If he fell asleep right now, he could still have a good three hour nap.
Go to sleep, Mike. Go to sleep.
Why can't you sleep? His back was killing him. Mike rolled out from under the covers and sat at the edge of the bed. His toes sank into the plush cold carpet. He walked over to the window and leaned his forehead against the warm glass.
Twenty-one stories below, the metopolis was still very much awake. Colourful neon lights danced as luxury cars streaked through the city. Clusters of people, small as ants, made their way along the streets. Mike wondered if his Little Ant was alright, wherever she was.
The last time he'd felt this lonely on a work trip was onboard a navy warship in the middle of the ocean. The ship was destroyed in a fire a few years ago.
Mike tried to look through the fortress of skyscrapers to see the horizon. Daybreak was a lifetime away.
Go to sleep, Mike. Go to sleep.
Why can't you sleep?
