iikoo (Singapore) published:


PROMPT: Personal Narrative Competition 2018

The lady nurse behind the counter punched a hole through Gong Gong’s* Identity Card. She handed it over to my father, whose face was blank and devoid of emotion, together with an information card containing the contact details of casket agencies, and mortuaries.
Even though it was slightly after 6pm in the evening (the time of Gong Gong’s departure to which his doctor-in-charge said to my parents and me: “Is it OK?” and I thought, Did we have a...

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