A motorcyclist was riding along a long stretch of road when he noticed a young woman, about 17 years old, waving him down. He stopped.
She was a rather pretty girl and she wanted a lift to her house in Geylang. The biker, an eligible male about 22 years old said, “Sure , no problem, hop on.”
The girl complained that she was cold and asked kindly for his jacket. He quite willingly and gallantly took off the stylish jacket he was wearing and proudly gave it to her. She looked quite good in it and smiled at him willingly. He felt good.
As she climbed on, he felt her arms around his waist, even a bit lower. Quite excited at the thought of such a pretty girl showing so much interest in him, he started the bike and turned on the speed a little bit to impress her.
As he rode, he felt her arms tighten around him more. They felt rather cold, actually, and he asked her if she was warm enough, should he slow down? But she said, no, she was fine.
The young man took her straight to her home as it was on his way and much as he thought she might be interested in him he was not the sort to male a move so quickly. When she got off at her address, she thanked him with a big smile, and said, “come and visit me anytime,” and pointed out her house to him.
The young man did not wait to see her through the door and left. It was nearly 1.30 am when he got home. It was then that he realised the girl had not given him back the jacket. Ah, well he could get it back tomorrow, a Sunday, he thought. He went to bed but had a fitful rest that night. He could not stop thinking of that pretty girl and looked forward to seeing her again.
The next morning, not having slept much anyway, the young man decided to visit the girl early. He reached the house at about 8 am. He knocked on the door for a bit but there was no answer. Finally, a middle-aged woman came to the door.
The young man explained that he had given her daughter a lift home last night but left his jacket with her and could he have it back. The woman looked surprised and said none of her daughters had been out the night before so what was he talking about.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep but the young man got irritable and insisted firmly that he had the right house. Finally, the woman, realising that h e was sincere, let him into the house and asked him which daughter? The man looked at the two girls there who were having their breakfast.
Not theses, he said, that one, in the photograph. Where was she?
The woman looked at him with a strange look her eyes. “ She’s been dead for four years, young man,” she said.
“That can’t be. It was her, I’m not mistaken,” he insisted.
“It cannot be . I’m telling the truth. I can even show you her grave. But I am not hiding her here. Dont hurt my feelings anymore,” the woman said. The other two girls supported her.
This only irritated the young man further. What kind of sick joke were this woman and her daughters playing on him?
“Then show me her grave” the hot-headed young man said, still not believing her.
The mother told her daughters to remain in the house and took the young man by foot to the nearby cemetery.
“Where is it?” he asked her, feeling he had called her bluff as she got nervous the nearer they got to the cemetery.
“It is just her, just around this corner,” she said.
When they turned the corner, they found the grave easily. It had the young man’s jacket over the tombstone.
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