At home, dawn begins at around 05:30 in December. It is 9°C out - I wear a hoodie and fleece to school. At this time of year it is barely cold enough to blow mist. Back then I thought that this was the only winter I’d know.

Sometimes, if I was lucky, the minibus would come right away. I waited three minutes this time - exactly enough for me to savour my favourite song at the time, “Coming Back” by Domo Genesis. The static from my wired earbuds (I think they were from Apliu Street, they looked exactly like the Apple ones) kept me warm inside that brief moment of blue. I never understood the weight of those three minutes of misfortune.

School is only 4 stops away, around a 10 minute ride. The driver lowers the fare for me. I think I owe him $4 from the time I forgot to bring my spare change. Usually, the minibus is empty at this time. I sit on the single seat on the left, right behind the door. It flaps open as he drives. It makes quite a lot of noise, it’s an old minibus. Sometimes the speed meter blinks. What would it all be without these imperfections?

I call my stop. I didn’t always have the courage to say it out loud. He raises his hand and lets me off.

“唔該司機!”

It took me even more courage to say that each time. I wonder what changed? Perhaps it was the familiarity. The directions of home will never, ever change.