Leaving footsteps.

It is pitch black outside as I look from my left to right, peeking at the windows, trying to look if there's anything out there. The plane jiggles a little and because it is literally pitch black out there, I do not know for sure how near we are to the ground. This is the part that makes me nervous the most whenever I take a flight. The airplane departure never worries me since most of the time I do not pay attention and am either reading the flight magazines or starting a movie until I hear the roar of the engine at its loudest. But arrivals always make me nervous as I contemplate the possibilities that could happen like the airplane not landing on the ground the first time and starts bouncing on the runway, or the pilot loses control of the brakes and the plane crashes, and well, you get the picture. I steadied my hands on the arm rest, braced for the impact of the plane as it touches the runway. A few seconds later and I feel the thud of the plane touching ground, followed by the loud deep screeches of tyres as the plane brakes to a slight halt. It runs slowly on the runway towards the landing zone. I catch glimpses of yellow light outside but it is still pitch black. The airplane finally reaches its stop and we scramble out of our seats, pulling bags down and find our way out of the plane and into the airport.

It is quiet for we are the first flight to arrive on such an early Monday morning. I make it through immigration in a record of one minute, the fastest ever that I've gotten out of immigration not counting Malaysian immigration. I wait in sight of my green backpack covered in the orange 'raincoat', concern it may not have been put on the flight. But my worries are for nothing as I spot it 20 minutes later. I walk out and realise it is still raining, make my way the shuttle bus, buy my ticket and get on just before it leaves. It bounces away happily to the hum of the raindrops falling on the roof of the bus. I pray hard in my head, asking God to make the rain stop just til I reach the apartment. But it continues to drizzle as I walk out to the tram stop and catch my tram. My backpack is unbalanced and there is hardly place for my flat butt to sit on as my backpack takes up most of the tram seat and I am only able to sit on the edge of it. At least it is not peak hour yet, I think to myself. I reach the tram stop just outside my building and cross the roads quickly, bowing my head to watch where I step.

I ride the elevator and walk across the short corridor and turn my key. I unpack quickly and as quietly as I possibly can. Most of it going to the dining table to be dealt with and given out to later. I strip off my clothes that have been worn for about 36 hours by now and force myself into the shower, quietly cursing the cold. I slide into the bed I now sleep on and pull the covers up to my chin. I look outside as I will away the loneliness that has crept back into my heart. It is 8am and the sky is a warm ocean blue. But it might as well be still pitch black.