Lugging my laptop and a stack of notes, I shuffled, bleary-eyed, into the coffeeshop and sat at my usual table. The regular guy who worked the night shift was already looking on expectantly for my order, not that he had to, any way; the staff at this establishment knew me by face, and would know what beverage to make me at a mere nod of my head.

“Maggi mee and an iced coffee,” I said. It was 4:30 am and I was ravenous. This coffeeshop served up a bowl of instant noodles with an egg and a hot dog for two dollars, 24/7, for night creatures such as myself.

“We’re out of Maggi mee,” he replied, not quite unapologetically. The look of disappointment on my face was visible.

“Just the coffee then.”

Moments later, the staffer ambled over with my drink in one hand, and a packet of nasi lemak in the other.

“I didn’t know you guys sold nasi lemak here.”

“We don’t. These are for the night shift staff.”

He placed the packet on my table.

“It’s four in the morning and you’re thinking of having Maggi mee?” Then he tsked, implying how poor a choice that was as far as nutritional values went.

“Here. My treat,” he said, and refused my offer to pay for it.