A near-empty bus sped down along the expressway; it could have been a quiet ride by all accounts, but the three passengers were just a tad too cool for their own good, after earlier events had transpired. They could never have let the moment just happen.

But as it was, not one of them could greet the onrushing darkness with any question, anything, just so to break the near-icy silence.

So she's gone, he held the thought in mind.

And as always you never had the chance to speak of your mind.

Not that he was alone in simmering thought. Each harboured their own feelings in their own little universe.

Three characters. Three charades. Three complexities to be interplayed between.

A perfect triangle. A consummate non-ending.

So she's gone.

The mother cut a forlorn figure at the railings, and I had to move across the space to do something. After all I was living life in fast forward, a year's fast forward, to be exact, and it would pretty much be a good bet to assume that she'd be dripping inward tears. I could only grant the relief of company and nothing else, but there and then it would have made a little difference would it not? In all eventuality, she didn't cross over to the departure gates to bid the final farewell. She could not, I guess. She would feel the absence so much deeper than any of us would.

So should I take on the mantle of temporary godson, as jokingly inferred nights ago?

I wonder what my departure shall bring. One year, and time never does stop for me.

Please take care in the next four months, pai dang.

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And knowing too much will bring him to his knees one day, when all truth tumbles out the window onto the public street and trust is the sole companion he will have by his side, when decision day strikes. Meanwhile, the unspoken triangular tension hangs in balance, perhaps not known to all involved in the greater web of silent deceit, but of sufficient quantity to keep life that bit more interesting. Yes indeed.