The Terminal just ended on HBO a couple of minutes ago. It's my third time watching it, not so much because I adore the movie (although Tom Hanks is quite a sweetheart in it) or because I'm free (I'm itching to complete Trigo once and for all), but because it was ...
-drumroll-
... the very first movie I watched with Justin (:
Heehee! It's kinda cute now that I think about it.
Me in my navy blue too-short pinafore (hey, can't help growing), watching people come and go at Orchard MRT, trying to look nonchalant and not too eager. Him looking much like he often does now in the all-white uniform, walking through the gates towards me with that silly grin of his.
Soft poofy chairs, fingers laced, an arm around my waist, my head on his shoulder.
(:
And today:
Getting picked up at my busstop about half an hour late as usual (blame his younger siblings for waking up late, hehe),
Justin's church,
Fathers' Day lunch at Sizzlers (most ironically, for Justin's daddy and not my own!),
a little shopping around,
back to his place,
falling asleep in his room after vowing to his parents that We Shall Study Hard,
waking up in time to raid his fridge/cupboards and watch Spongebob and the Simpsons,
getting sent home in his mummy's car.
This is something that happens on about one Sunday in four, and while it might not sound particularly exciting to you, it's my idea of a lovely day spent with him and his family.
(:
End of mush. Back to Trigo. Happy Fathers' Day to, well, noone who reads this!
And of course, Happy Fathers' Day to my daddy and my Daddy in heaven (: