City of Shared Stories Kuala Lumpur

Billy's father, driving, pointed up ahead. "Do you know why there's a big traffic jam?"

"Because people are leaving work?"

"Not at this hour. There's an accident up ahead."

Billy tried to raise himself up on the passenger seat. It was tough because he was strapped down by the safety belt, which his father insisted on. Someday he would be as tall as his father, but when?

"And the reason the cars are slow," his father continued, "is that many of the drivers are stopping to look at the accident. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because they want to take down the license-plate numbers and buy lottery tickets!"

"Really?" Billy had never heard of such a thing.

"Yes. There are many people who want to become rich without working. They don't realise how important it is to live with honesty."

"Honesty," Billy repeated.

"Honesty, always honesty."

A few minutes later, they did indeed pass by a nasty, twisted heap of metal, with glass and (could it be?) blood around it. "Don't look," Billy's father said.

Up ahead, a traffic cop flagged their car to pull over.

"Were we speeding?" Billy asked his father.

The cop gestured to something at the back of the car. Billy and his father got out.

"Do you realise your license plate is broken?" said the cop. "The last two numbers are not there."

"Omigosh!" said Billy's father. I didn't notice. Must be very recent."

"No, it was last week," Billy piped up. "Don't you remember when you gostan into the gate and --"

Billy's father squeezed Billy's shoulder, near the neck, very tightly. Billy kept quiet.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.