Short Story: Tuk Tuk

In this short story, Nuriye T. shows us a glimpse of resilience and undeniable strength to deal with life’s challenges.

When the glass doors of Siam Paragon closed behind me, the world split in two. Behind me: that sterile universe fixed at eighteen degrees, scented with fresh orchids. In front of me: Bangkok’s humid heat, slapping my face like a dirty fist. As I threw myself into the black Mercedes waiting at the VIP exit, I had only one purpose: to shield myself from the sweaty, pungent reality outside. The door shut. Tok. The most peaceful sound in the world: silence. Inside, it was exactly twenty degrees. The sandalwood fragrance drifting from the vents calmed my mind. I glanced at the golden shopping bag I had placed on the seat beside me as though it were a sacred relic. Inside, the five‑thousand‑dollar watch lay asleep in its velvet bed. Carrying it felt like committing a silent crime against the rest of the city. But at that moment, I didn’t care. In the midst of this chaos, I felt like a diamond flowing through it all, superior, “clean.”  

I leaned against the window. Watching the street through thick, soundproof glass was like watching an aquarium. Laborers with sweat pouring down their backs, office workers eating beside open sewers… I observed them from within a bubble. Just three centimeters of glass separated us, yet it might as well have been light‑years. That heavy stench could never reach me. But ten minutes later, the Mercedes turned into a glittering metal coffin. Traffic was gridlocked. And then, with a hiccup, the air‑conditioning gave up. Somchai, the driver, looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Sir, I’m terribly sorry,” he whispered. “The engine is overheating. I’ll have to shut off the ventilation and open the window.”