I thought my mother would take a second go at mauling me for coming home late. I glanced at my watch and realised that it was fifteen minutes past five. The little meeting going on around me did not seem close to any conclusion.

That meant that I'd reach home at around... seven, if the meeting would drag on.

For the Writer's Club meeting today, held at thirty past three, there were only three people who attended it: Pradhu, the other writer with the same writing style as I, Ms Chng but we all call her Suan, ('suan' can mean 'sour' in Chinese, though) who's the lecturer-leader of this club and yours truly.

I was happy that the meeting group was smaller, but the attendance was appalling none the less.

We reviewed each of our own works, each that had been submitted at the last meeting. 'Autumn Leaves' went through the critique and now I'm working on it, on a new and improved version. I'm happy for that.

I realised a new fact about stories through that meeting: More often than not, there would be an issue present in the story, one that has to do with society, characters (or people, as some characters can be alien), or things about life. 'Autumn Leaves', once edited, will carry such a message.

I got to know Pradhu better. He was a Year Three Maritime student, the kind that won't sail and work in the office, and Year Three was the final year for most courses. It's kinda unfair that the good writers in our club, the ones whom I really like, are in Year Three and will be leaving after the term's done.

That may make me 'the best' (but I don't want to brag) but I don't know what'll happen to the club once they leave. I'll be awfully lonely. Might as well make friends when I can, and I'm happy that I got a new friend today.

En route to the MRT station, I ran into classmate Zoë. Pradhu was taking another train so we parted and I stuck with Zoë who was taking the same train as I.

As we chatted, the topics ran along wild tangents, breaking off from subject to subject. We covered our interests and animal favourites, and I found grounds of similarity between her and me. My ride home was no longer so boring. I was happy.

Once I got to my station, the afternoon thunderstorm had ceased and I was able to take out the chocolate bar I acquired from Suan because of my dutiful attendance. A sweet reward well-savoured.

Coming out of the MRT, I realised that it was just fifteen past six. So I was getting home before the curfew! That made me really happy.

The chocolate bar snapped but I caught the loose chunk before I lost it to the ground. I contented myself with that chunk, tucking the wrapped-up bar into my pocket for later.

Nibble nibble nibble.

As I walked on home, I left the main road to turn into the lane that leads to my little house at the bottom of the hill. I loved walking home and rarely take lifts from my friend (but I do when I end classes late), where the little lane was often empty of other human life, save the occasional dog-walker and dog, so I pretty much get to be Queen of the Road for a bit.

Strolling down the lane, I was able to appreciate the beauty of silence, until I started singing to myself for the sake of it (and to practise my Ear Training. Yes, that’s what I do in school, every Monday.) And I was glad that I was missing out big time on possible public embarrassment.

The chocolate chunk in my hand had started to melt, and when the last of the chocolate was downed my fingertips were slicked with a coat of sweet chocolate. I sucked them clean on the home stretch, and that kept me entertained till I reached home.

Grandma may have a fit about having chocolate before dinner, but I really didn’t care.

I was happy.