And then the huge screen flashing trailers suddenly began showing the video for Back To December.

Oh yes, that super sian MV with the dude walking in the snow and Taylor Swift sitting around the house with various fascinating hairstyles. As if the song isn't quite repetitive. But somehow you don't really notice till the 15th listen.

But of course I was watching it, well half watching it since Taylor Swift is somewhat of a guilty pleasure. And then the chorus came up.

And just at that moment some super serious looking stockily built super super mutt looking malay dude in a vintage white T-shirt walks by, and not just mouthing the words, but singing them.

I laughed at him.

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He was at the bus stop again. It was raining. Heavily.

Water, water, water he thought. There was no end to the water. He was on an island, surrounded by water, and the sky insisted on raining almost everyday. And well, when it rained, it did pour. If only cliches didn't have that much truth in them.

He wasn't soaked, just you know his feet, with his socks and shoes. He could feel them squishing about, his feet that is. They would be in horrifying wrinkles by time he managed to get home and pry them off.

Speaking of home, his bus came up, the wait times were always depressing, though somehow he didn't find the long ride itself intimidating. He stepped up to the bus, but an old lady blocked his path, and so he stopped at the edge of the shelter, as the raindrops splashed down in front of him, a few stray ones hitting his head. He waited for the old lady to move in and stepped out into the rain.

A pudgy man wearing an obnoxiously pink shirt blocked his path.

He stared blankly at the mass of hot pink in front of him, it was loud, calling for attention, and was bold, although its owner seemed to be slow, sluggish and well, just as obnoxious as it was. Cutting his queue, honestly.

The man struggled to wedge his pudginess through the bus door and He stood there as the raindrops impacted with his back and head. Flowing down his shoulders, soaking his beautifully and most lovingly washed T-shirt. Also his precious bag.

The man finally moved in front and he stepped into the bus, dripping water as his royal pudginess fumbled with his wallet. The bus driver glanced at the young man for a moment, tense , sensing the silent aura of intimidating anger.

He tapped his card on the reader and wondered what he would do to the mindless creature. Right now there was nothing he wanted to do more than to ram the man's fluorescent shirt up his as-

He hated his inner voice sometimes.