My phone, my life

A PARALYSING fear seized me as I frantically dug through my bag in search of my phone. After going through the various stages - denial, anger, and finally acceptance that I had left it at home in my haste to leave - I slumped back in the seat of the bus and heaved a sigh, wondering how I was going to navigate the imbroglio.

The ride was awkward. I felt an ineffable feeling of loss while looking at other passengers, heads lowered, engrossed in that one item I did not have for the day. Drama much? Maybe. Irrational? Not so much.

The group of friends I met that day - just before tighter curbs kicked in - unanimously agreed that they would rather have left their wallets at home. "No wallet, can still go about your day. Everything is on the phone apps. Without it, I will be super lost 'cause I cannot message!" said one. Another concurred: "See la, have to do SafeEntry for you now - and order your food." As if I were culpable that the café only had an e-menu - and not that it would be an issue in the coming weeks.