this afternoon, a sunny sunday afternoon, around lunchtime, my little mother walked up the street to the fish shop in the mall to procure some prawns with which to fry up some kuay teow, penang style. on her way home, less than a block from the front door, a slightly built aboriginal youth with short curly hair and dressed in a red-and-white horizontally-striped shirt came up behind her, shoved her to the ground, grabbed her handbag and ran to the council flats a short distance away, from whence he was spirited away in a white car. people still push little old ladies down in the street? but she is resilient; hours later, after the police interview, the mugshot viewing, the walking up and down the neighbourhood streets in a vain attempt to find her handbag, she was frying up noodles at the stove. the bastard hadn’t taken the prawns.