(That Thing I Do)

Heroism of the Hungry

I was taking shelter in my room one blistering Sunday afternoon, half-full from a half-lunch that I had after working out at the gym nearby. I had half a mind to go fill my tummy properly, but the weather was nagging. I conceded to the unaccommodating temperature that was attempting to barge through my thinly curtained glass window. I sat unbothered, staring at the computer screen, while my stalwart air-conditioner fought the enemy relentlessly.

Then I heard the the sound of the dim sum truck passing by, calling out to peddle its wares.

The idea of some siew mai had melted my stoic stance away while ushering in an instant excitement not unlike that of a child on Christmas morning. I grabbed the nearest t-shirt, and clumsily fumbled to put it on, before I grabbed my house keys and barely enough cash and bolted down out of my second-storey room, around the boxes I left between my room at the staircase, darted down the stairs and shot straight to the door with deadly aim, almost like parkour . I panned my sight across the street, and had spotted the dim sumtruck.

Horror! It was around the bend, exiting my street! I wouldn’t yield. Even half a hunger trumps the continuous barrage of sun-rays upon me. With almost cat-like instict, I sprinted in my little red flip-flops the opposite direction towards an alley, in an attempt to intercept the dim sum truck as it would presumably pass through the adjacent street.

As I exited the other end of the alley, I found victory. I had intercepted the dim sum truck just in time. I made my order, paid, and walked back home in sweaty, panting glory.

The dim sum wasn’t particularly good, but my victory was sweet.

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