The pain on my left shoulder had become insufferable unbearable the night before. Being the coward that's afraid of the slightest pain, I had winced and groaned my nights to sleep. Finally, I had decided that the scarring was just absurd and that I'll see the doctor first thing in the morning. Because having a perfectly round hole that looked like its been made by pouring a single drop of acid on my flesh didn't feel normal.

So I left in the morning to see the family doctor. I had called my mother minutes prior, she said she'd come and pick me so that we could go together. I had 5 minutes to make my way downstairs, she said.

Leaving the house has always been a little tricky. If I opened the entrance door ajar for a second too long, the doggie will happily bolt out and run across the corridor. Which of course is a problem for us since we're not allowed to keep dogs in the first place. It was one of those days again, where Bubbles escaped and I had to give chase... again.

Halfway across the corridor she had stopped short. The maintenance lady was there mopping the floor. Bubbles wouldn't tread anywhere beyond the wet floors. After picking her up and dumping her back home, I walked towards the elevators, walked past the maintenance lady in blue with a mop in her hand, facing the wall with her head low, hidden.

Something about her felt elusive. Maybe it was the dimly lit corridor. I had never seen her around here before, probably new, I thought. But there was no eye contact, so I didn't pursue further and walked on.

"Hey" A voice had then called out. I turned.

"Nama U... Suyin kan?"

I froze.

Retracing my steps I found myself face to face with her. And I realize I recognized her. Much more than that, I had spent my secondary years being stuck in the same hell-pit of a school with her, surviving one form after another. Even though we had never shared the same class, we graduated together in 2006.

Giving me a sheepish grin laced with embarrassment, she asked if I remembered her.

Anusha...

I was quite sure that was her name, then again I wasn't. I bit my lips and simply nodded. Would blurting out the wrong name have hurt her feelings then? Because she had remembered mine. I felt hot and flustered, thinking that I should be the one who had every reason to be embarrassed for being unsure. A gush of thoughts ran through my head, I wonder how she felt realizing I stayed on this very floor where she mopped floors. I questioned my thoughts in return.

We were never best friends or even classmates to begin with. She was in the last class, I was in the first. I don't recall how I came to know her. I assume it was because I was a prefect back then and had booked her or something. I knew everyone, and yet I didn't know anyone. After awhile the sea of students becomes a clustered unit, I had stopped seeking individuality. This, was probably fueled by the fact that I never did try to associate with the school community, i never cared. I made friends yes, but I always understood that school friends were very much different from life friends. School friends always tend to be limited to within the school compound. So technically, I know and don't know her. Yet we had something in common.

The awkwardness was beyond what words could describe. What does one say after such a reunion?

She began to tell me her story after graduation. How her family could not afford to fund her education anymore nor will she be able to seek student loans. Her other siblings married and have their own families now thus she cannot forever rely on them. She tells me how it was working at my condo area full time, coming home late and exhausted, which meant a dormant social life. She said she wanted a better life too, but she didn't have much options to begin with. There was a sad tone to her voice as she spoke. I wonder if she was sadden by relating her story, to me of all people, or because she saw how I had turned out after high school?

I knew that in her eyes, she viewed me as being a person who is so much luckier than she was.

I never spoke much. I didn't know what to say, because really, what can you say when a person tells you a sad story that you are sure wouldn't inflict more damage? Instead, she turned the table and asked about my life so far, so I told her the same mundane things I tell everyone else. It felt normal and repetitive before when I told others, things I don't even think twice about when I speak, like oh I'm starting Uni soon and yes I have someone I like now. Why does it feel poisoned with guilt this time? I didn't understand it at that moment, but the feeling was there.

I felt guilty for being blessed to be so lucky in life.

The core of the guilt was knowing how until now I probably never fully took the time to appreciate it. Had she known, would she have cursed me for being unappreciative?

She looked like she wanted nothing more than to be in my shoes. Before meeting her all that I had wanted was to get out of mine and run away.

Funny how once a person gets used to a comfortable lifestyle, they start thinking it's their bloody birth-right to have this and that to cater to their whims and fancies, and gets depressed when they are deprived of it. I have a demon in me that behaves just like that once in awhile. Especially when I wallow in anger.

Because by holding on to the anguish of fights and depression for far too long at a time, I always fail to remember.

Things like having a mother who would drop everything to ferry me to see the doctor for a flesh wound. My father who I fought with ferociously simply because he prioritized my safety over me hating him for being strict. A brother who moved out so that I could get decent sleep each night. How lucky I am to still be able to study to secure a better future. How lucky I am to be able to spend time and money to socialize with friends, to have technological means to do so.

My mind snapped.

A person like me, I wonder if I even deserve the rights to be happy, or ever find happiness?

I had to leave very soon after that. Mum was waiting downstairs, so I bid my leave but not before offering to meet up with her again. I waved, then left with a numbing feeling.

She continued mopping the remainders of the corridor.

That 5 minute chance encounter never left me ever since. Not after the doctor, not after spending the entire day with my favorite person, not even now. I keep recalling the things I am grateful for now, I recall in great appreciation. I suppose I do look forward to life now with stronger anticipations, knowing now I will make the best out of the things I've been blessed with. Whether I deserved it or not is another matter in itself I guess.

Maybe it wasn't a chance encounter after all. It was one that came with the most perfect timing, one that I badly needed to have some self reflection.

I wonder if I'll ever see her again soon, because sometimes I still wonder if I deserve.