A Quarter-Century Old
It is not very often that people will remember the birthday of someone who is a quarter-century old, unemployed, single and lives with his parents. Statistically, I’m very likely to join the ranks of those kopitiam uncles who blame the government for every light bulb that goes off in the house, only to be found dead in my rented one-room flat by the stench of decay.
But friends, they remember. I’m not just a statistical number — true friendship goes deeper than that.
Thank you all who remembered.