Happy hour

After my haircut, I bumped into a Secondary Four classmate at Holland Village. It’s amazing how we still recognized each other instantly (maybe it’s the haircut) after more than 20 years.

So he asks me, “Where you heading, man?”

“To buy some bread and then go home”.

He laughs and says, “Aiyah, I thought you were going for Happy Hour or something”.

And the rest of the conversation ensues:

“No lah, are you?”

“Only if you are”

“No lah, can’t. Wife and kid waiting at home”.

“Actually I can’t. I’m going to buy a present for a kid’s birthday party”.

“Life’s like that nowsaday hor?”

“Yup. Never mind, we catch up another time”.

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