Men Apart Apartments

Yesterday morning (4/6/2016), Suhail Samsudin - roommate for 3 years, close compadre for 4 or more - woke me up to say goodbye. He was about to drive back home. After four years of law school, he was finally graduating. I was groggy as fuck, and I just said the normal farewells, without feeling much really; just overtly drowsy and slightly frustrated that I might have been rudely awoken from a dream. Besides, I was gonna see him in a couple of weeks anyway, what's there to be tearful about?

A couple of hours later, I woke up for good. Instinctively, I walked to Suhail's compartment like I do almost every morning.

That's when it hit me the hardest.

It didn't hit me at all when I was in ibadah camp. Although I was barely there and spent the rest of the time being sick. Nor did it hit me mildly when I was saying goodbye after the photo sessions. Nor was any emotional significance felt when I put down my pen after what was hopefully the very last paper I did for my degree.

It didn't hit me more than mildly when a friend messaged me that we were drifting apart. Nor did it hit me when people were being saps all over Whatsapp (What-saps?) and saying their "I miss you's" and posting their little anecdotes of the things they would miss about IIU.

It hit me the hardest when I found myself in an empty compartment that was supposed to be my friend's room and I thought:
"This isn't Suhail's room."

The bedsheets were gone, there was no Suhail hunched over his laptop watching NBA highlights, guitar lessons, or doing last minute assignments. There was no ukulele or guitar in sight. Only an unrequited good morning from a Zim who murmured "Mornii...", 'because he realized slightly too late that he was talking to no one.

So many other dead or dying routines came flashing by in my mind. Skipping Friday prayers while hiding in the dorm, occasional dinners at Kubur, morning pre-shower cigarettes to a foggy dawn, unnecessarily profound night conversations, constantly worrying but rarely going to class anyway, Econs lunch, debate training, debate classes, tutorials for which we were drastically unprepared, rides to KL Fest and so many more mundane things really.

So mundane, yet so familiar. So I held on to them subconsciously like worn out furniture.

Except now, I'm entering the apartment and I'm all shocked that somebody moved out my couch set, favourite posters, and second hand TV. Even though I was given the eviction notice months ago.

"Somebody stole my furniture. Help. 999"

I took out my box of Sampoerna.

It was empty too.

Then tears.