JOINT REPLACEMENT SURGERY
Six year old Putra pedalled hard, his tiny fingers gripping the handlebars. The rusty old bicycle chain clanked and rattled. Papa peeped out the window at the noise.
“Putra, what are you doing?” Papa asked.
My heart warms to see this once bow-legged woman cross the room gracefully and settle into the chair next to me.
“How are you, Madam Chee?”, I find myself asking – though I can plainly see the answer on her face. She lifts her trouser legs to let me run my hands along the scars on both her knees.