blower's daughter.

damien rice played on my ipod on the way back and it reminded me of chris.i remembered sitting with him at ang mo kio, a week before he killed himself, when he told me that damien rice was amazing.
i remember
his blonde streaks.
his temper.
his next menthols.
his dad's old mercedes.
his glass of teh.(which i paid for.)
his bald head.
his sorrow.
his laughter.
his missed call.

i remember you chris.