The harsh fluorescent light flickered to life as I pushed the switch into the wall, casting a pale glow across my cramped apartment. I tossed my latest report onto the kitchen counter, its crispy pages stood in stark contrast to the mess around it. The thought crossed my mind—how the fabric had begun to feel more like a noose than a tie, a constant reminder of the suffocating loneliness that had come to define my life.

 

I stared at the cracked paint on the walls, barely clinging on; the chipped corners of the rusted old table; the sink filled with dishes, begging to be freed of their filth. The buzzing of the counter light pierced the silence, a steady drone that seemed to mirror the restless hum of my thoughts. I ought to replace that light, I thought, adding it to the ever-growing list of tasks I’d probably never complete.

 

The familiar, wearisome routine began. I retrieved a container of cold, congealed leftovers from the fridge— the same cold, rubbery dish I’d eaten three nights in a row. I slumped onto the worn sofa as the microwave reluctantly hummed, letting out an unconscious, heavy sigh that lingered in the stale air.

 

DING.

 

The microwave's shrill alarm jolted me from my thoughts. I dragged my weary legs back to the kitchen and sat down at the small dinner table. A fly buzzed lazily around my head. I swatted it away irritably without looking at it. My hand reached for the remote buried beneath a pile of unopened mail and takeout menus. The television blinked on, bathing the room with an artificial luminesce. I flipped through a parade of channels mindlessly, until something caught my eye.

 

A family, faces alight with joy, laughter spilling from their lips as easily as breath, gathered around a dinner table. The mother, with eyes twinkling with affection, placed steaming dishes before her eager children— chicken, spaghetti, salads, pizza. The father joined them, planting a kiss on her cheek as he sat down. Their happiness was evident. Enjoy family fun with our special, get 20% off on our Family Pizza Package, perfect for sharing delici—

 

I switched off the TV, plunging the room back into a suffocating silence. I stared at the plate. It was nothing more than a poor facsimile of a home-cooked meal.

 

"You're never here, Liam!" Katherine’s voice echoed in my memory. I hadn’t answered her right away. Katherine was furious. Her face was flushed, her beautiful eyes pierced through me like knives in the middle of our modest house back home. It was small, but it was ours, filled with sounds of life— until that moment. "The children barely know their father anymore! "

 

I stood frozen in the doorway, briefcase in hand. I feared if I had moved even an inch I would have given in. Mei Ling, our eldest, peeked around the corner, her eyes wide with worry. In the corner of my eye, I can see Little Jian, barely five, clung to his sister's leg, lower lip trembling.

 

"I'm doing this for us," I retorted, my own frustration boiling over. The words spilling out before I could stop them. "For a better future, for opportunities—"

 

"We don't need opportunities!" Katherine interrupted, her voice cracking yet sharp. Her hands

resting on the back of our dining room chair, gripping it so tight I could see her knuckles turning white. "We need you. Here. With us."

 

The memory shifted, softening at the edges like an old photograph. I saw our home as it truly was – not the battlefield of that terrible fight, but the warm, loving sanctuary it had always been. The walls, painted a soft yellow at Katherine's insistence, seemed to glow with an inner light in the afternoon. The light would filter through the thin curtains, casting a warm hue over everything. Family photos lined the walls, each one we captured, an irreplaceable piece of frozen time. Mei Ling's first day of school, her messy pigtails and gap-toothed grin beaming at the camera. Jian, much younger then, his chubby hands wrapped around a toy train, his innocent face a picture of concentration.

The scent of Katherine’s cooking wafting from the kitchen— fragrant and rich. Curries, rice, spices simmering on the stoves, the sweet scent of pandan leaves that lingered even long after dinner. The sounds of pots clattering, water boiling, meat sizzling in the pan were always the music of home. Our table, always a little sticky from little hands, was where we gathered, no matter what happened that day. It was the heart of our home. It was where we shared more than just meals.

 

In the corner stood the old upright piano with worn keys. Katherine's fingers would dance across the keys as we sang off-keyed symphonies of love with unbridled enthusiasm. Mei Ling would twirl in her favorite petal-like dress until dizzy, while Jian giggled, bouncing around the living room.

 

ZAP!

 

The fly’s buzzing stopped. I looked up. His buzzing stuttered, followed by a sharp crackle—louder than it should’ve been. The culprit was the cheap, sterile white electric flycatcher hanging against the kitchen wall. Its eerie purple core hummed softly, casting strange, flickering shadows on the walls like a forgotten fire's last embers. He twitched, his tiny body trapped in the synthetic mesh. He struggled for a moment, translucent wings beating frantically.

 

His struggle was almost over now—its movements reduced to the occasional twitch, its wings barely trembling, its body hanging suspended in the web of wires.

 

One final ZAP. The fly’s legs curled inward, its wings drooped, and it was still.

 

A line of smoke rose from its tiny form, curling around the still air. The purple glow of the flycatcher dimmed once more, flickering occasionally, as if waiting for the next unsuspecting victim, casting shadows that seemed to grow longer with each passing second.

 

But all I heard was silence. Broken only by the occasional hum of traffic from the street below and the faint buzzing of that damned flickering light.

 

 

Story Author: Tonia Sou (ASPutra International Student 2024/2025)

Editor: Zur Hanis Hamim (LPE Lecturer)

 

Date of Input: 17/12/2025 | Updated: 18/12/2025 | hasniah