The Swirl of Memories

As Chen Lu stared into the swirling contents of the vial, memories of his childhood washed over him like a tide—strong, bittersweet, and impossible to ignore. He was transported back to the sun-drenched streets of Singapore, where the world seemed infinite, filled with possibilities that stretched far beyond their youthful understanding.

“Chen! Come play!”

Bintang’s voice rang out, cutting through the noise of bustling markets, the clamor of vendors calling out their wares, and the hum of the city. His words were bright and full of life, carrying an innocent energy that made the world seem simpler. They were young then, perhaps nine or ten, running through the crowded streets as if the city belonged to them. In their minds, it did.

“Wait up, Bintang! I’ll beat you to the bridge!”