"Hey, new place?" A young man in grey shirt and black pants walked into my cafe. Just a common face in the crowd that I have probably seen a million times in MRT.

"Yep. Welcome to Lucy's Happy Cafe," I smiled as I handed him a menu.

"Your signboard doesn't look that happy," he said as he opened it.

"Maybe black and red are not your color."

"They are, but I always associate them with bloody death," he replied while reading. "Oh my, and your menu is even more depressing. What are the ingredients of these drinks - Suicidal, Shed a Tear, A Drop of Blood, Chronic Depression?"

I laughed.

"Reverse psychology, my way. Sorry I can't tell you the ingredients - trade secret, you see. But you'll love them."

"Do I get a refund if I don't like it?"

I nodded.

"Wow, that's confidence. I'll have a... Suicidal."

"Would you like to order some food? Maybe a croissant, or a slice or carrot cake?"

"Just a drink will do."

I started working on his order. A spoonful of pale, silvery, sickly white moonlight and rain water from a lonely midnight. A wilting red rose on the glass' side and I finished it off by sprinkling the drink with a cluster of stars that forgot how to shine.

"Smells good," he sniffed and cautiously took a sip. "Hmm, tastes good too!"

"I'm glad you like it."

I hummed a little tune as I cleaned the kitchen.

D G G F G

D F F E F

D F F E F E D D C C D

"That's a weird tune. What song is that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just something my mother hum to me when I refused to sleep."

"Just a tune and no lyrics?"

"I don't think there is, but when I grew up I decided to write lyrics for it."

"A ringgit and cent

and I'll be your friend

Chasing your sorrows as fast as I can."

"So... if I give you a dollar and a cent, you would make me happy?"

I nodded.

He handed me a dollar and a cent and as I pocketed it, he looked at me expectantly. I laughed.

"I can't do my magic if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

"Ah, alright," he looked embarrassed. "Here goes. Don't laugh... "

"I won't," I assured him. "A dollar and cent, and I'll be your friend, remember? I just got HIV testing done in Singapore"

*

It's a long story. Not really long, actually. But "it's a long story" seems like a good way to start a story. Anyway. I think you must have heard this a million times. You are probably bored of hearing it. It probably happens to anyone alive. But it's my sorrow. My depression. My sadness. And that makes it unique and special to me. It's mine.

I am the second child. I have an elder sister and a younger brother. My elder sister is called Carina and she is two years older than me. She is everything that I am not. She got straight A, she won scholarship, she studied in UK, she works for a multinational company and is the best performer in her company for three consecutive years.

I am nothing compared to her. I was never good when it comes to studies, but I wanted to study overseas like Carina. I found a college in Taiwan which would accept me. Beggars can't be choosers, so I went to Taiwan, even though they offered me psychology, a course I am not interested in. That's not true. I don't know what I'm interested in. I'm not sure if I have an interest, actually.

Anyway, surprisingly I managed to graduate. It was not surprising that I couldn't find a job when I return to Malaysia. Not as a psychologist, so I tried other fields. I failed miserably. I was fired after three months. My boss said I was "courteous but not motivated".

Now I am unemployed. Not exactly unemployed since I am doing freelance website design but since it is not enough for survival, I consider myself unemployed. I am also actively attending interviews so my family won't complain about my joblessness. Of course I won't tell them that I intentionally screw up my interviews so I don't have to work. I don't think I am able to work. I am not good enough, I think.

I am nothing when compared to my youngest brother, Aaron, either. He is an amazing athlete. A very good badminton player, and he is now a popular coach, especially among his female students, who fall in love with his smashes.

Me? Look at me. Chubby. Round face. I am not good with sports, and I am not handsome. I can't jog for more than ten minutes. I'll faint. I'll never be popular among the girls.

I hate family gatherings. My cousins are all excited to talk to my siblings, but when it comes to me, it is just polite talks about the weather.

I know these are trivial matters, but they hurt me so deeply. So deeply. You can't imagine how painful it is.

How can you make me happy?

*

"That is a very sad story," I said sympathetically.

He nodded a little and removed his spectacles to wipe away his tears.

"I have a good idea as to how I can make you happy. But first, finish your drink while I prepare something for you."

He drank up obediently. He was staring at me blankly when I walked towards him with a wooden box.

When I opened the box and showed him the contents - a bottle of sleeping pills and a bottle of mineral water - he broke into a huge, genuine smile.

"You read my mind! I just realized that suicide is the perfect solution to my predicament. It is the only way to make me happy, for the dead don't experience sadness. Thank you, thank you! Best dollar and cent that I have spent."

"Welcome," I said with a smile as I watched him swallowing the pills.

Nothing makes me happier than a satisfied customer.