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Forgetfulness


Forgetfulness, TWC Student's Composition, Model Composition

Scanning the crowd, I looked for the Prime Minister. Fellow journalists were pushing and shoving each other, and the conference hall was in a state of havoc. I, like everyone else, wanted to interview the Prime Minister. I wanted to ask for more information about his solutions to combat train breakdowns. This was headline news! Before long, I caught sight of his towering figure in front of me.


“Excuse me, sir. It is time for our appointment,” I chirped cheerily. He flashed me a megawatt smile and nodded. He then followed me into a secluded corner of the room, away from the boisterous sea of people. I noticed that he was impeccably clad in a smart business suit. Something inside me quavered as I was nervous. However, I decided to muster up my courage to talk to him… I desperately needed to get that story on the front page! My breathing was rapid and shallow. My pulse was pounding in my temples. It was a relief to get to my chair and settle down.


I reflexively rummaged my bag for my very important notebook which contained the questions I had painstakingly prepared for the Prime Minister. I stopped short and froze with a sheepish smile on my face. The notebook was missing! Though I had a smile on my face, my face radiated heat like a hot pan and you could have cooked a three-course meal on it. Oh no! I must have left the book at the office! My editor is going to kill me! How could I be so forgetful?


I racked my brains for the right solution but it proved futile. I sighed in dismay as I tried to recall the interview questions. The Prime Minister cocked his head in curiosity. When I turned around, he must have noticed my pale face, for he then enquired, “Are you alright?”


I flashed him a faint smile. Fortunately, I remembered what I wanted to find out. All I had to do was to ask the questions to get them. However, I did not have pen and paper for writing down his replies. My cheeks turned deep crimson and I stood stiffly as I was tense. I asked him if he had some pen and paper to spare. The Prime Minister chuckled heartily before fishing out his notebook and pen for me. I then started to ask him questions. Fortunately, the interview went smoothly and the Prime Minister let me tear out a few pages of his notebook to bring back to my office.


I was so relieved that the interview was productive and the story made the front page. Thankfully, the Prime Minister was amused and I managed to avoid a scolding. Whew! I was so lucky that the Prime Minister was so understanding. What a rookie mistake! I made up my mind to double-check my bag whenever I leave my office.

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