Thristan

There's a really cute boy called Thristan (yes, with the H, I noticed his uniform nametag) who lives in my block. Today is the second time he has introduced himself to me. He is probably in primary three or four, plump, with rosy cheeks.

My block has this private gate where you have to flash a card at the sensor (a la ezlink on the bus) in order to get into the lift lobby. I open the gate for him, and surprise surprise, he says "thank you".

Polite kid, I like. (How many Singaporean kids actually say thank you???)

He keeps looking at me. We get into the lift.

He leans with his haversack against the wall, and says in a slightly adulterated American accent, enunciating his words slowly: "Hi, my name is Thristan, what's your name?"

Innocent, marble-like eyes look at me expectantly. I take a few seconds to get over my surprise at his forwardness, and then reply. And I tell him I think I saw his brother and mother in the lift earlier in the day. His brother (a pudgier version of Thristan) and mother both speak with the accent, and his brother actually waved hello to me - a stranger - when I entered the lift. Mum even sayed bye.

Thristan says: "Oh, is he Ryan? He's Ryan."

The lift door opens, and he is still waiting for me to answer. I say, yup, I think it's Ryan.

I walk out, and Thristan says bye.

How cute.