About a month ago, The Straits Times ran a writing contest where participants could stand to see their 200-word love stories published in the Valentine's Day leadup in the paper. I thought I had something that fitted the bill, so I took a stab at it. My piece got chosen among 15 others and so, here we are. The story behind the story, however, begs telling, perhaps even more than the tale itself. I was having dinner at Soup Spoon in Tanjong Pagar on a Friday night some years ago when I spotted a woman eating by herself, like me. I don't think she noticed, but I was watching the way she was glued to her phone as she ate. There was nothing romantic about that scene, more a detached bemusement at the relationship this stranger had with her screen. I jotted down some notes, which then became "Automat". So why "Automat"? Are there even Automats in Singapore? I'm not sure; I sure haven't seen any around before. But if you go check out Edward Hopper's painting of the same name, you'll see why. In any case, the full text of "Automat" is below, for your reading pleasure. Happy V-Day, y'all. AutomatShe looked as though she had stepped out of an Edward Hopper painting. With that hat and coat, she should be painting the town red on a Friday, not sitting here with red eyes and a coffee. His ear ached from making cold calls all day; all he wanted now was a hot dinner. He noticed the tissue in her hand, white as her phone. Between mouthfuls, he would lift his eyes, watching her stare at the screen, careful not to meet her eyes for fear of being caught gawking. Suddenly, she stiffened. A paroxysm of texting. What happened, he wondered. If this were a movie, the scene might cut to the messages between her and her philandering lover. There would be music. Possibly subtitles. He might even offer... She got up just as he was done eating. Two women were chatting about collagen injections. One of them shot the waiter a dirty look when he cleared his throat and her plate. The manager was pulling down the roller shutters. Too late: she had already walked away, the tissue tight in her fist.
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