... I shall never forget this day for the rest of my life.

It was a cool September morning. Early rain had cleared the skies to a golden hue. The occasional pit pat of the rain drops on the rooftop gutters lulled me to a dreamy stupor. Soon, I would have to get up as I had to attend a club meeting.

My brother, Alex had promised to give me a lift before he went to his office. As usual, we dropped by Permai Restaurant for breakfast. The town was just beginning to stir from its sleep as Alex swerved into one of the many empty parking lots. While he slotted some coins into the parking machine, I grabbed my handbag and sauntered to the restaurant, the aroma of teh tarik beckoning me.

Suddenly, I felt a strong tug from behind and before I realized it, my handbag was gone. I looked up and saw two men on a motorcycle. Then it hit me! Snatch thieves! I screamed but the sound was a mere whimper. I ran towards Alex, arms flailing. He jumped into his car and gave chase.

By this time, some workers from the restaurant who had realised what had happened brought me into the restaurant and gave me a hot teh tarik. Curious eyes followed me. I could not swallow. Why me? The thought of losing my handphone made me nauseous. I was vaguely aware that my arm was throbbing and I saw that it was swollen.

Twenty minutes later and what seemed like an eternity to me, Alex came back empty-handed. I was relieved that he was all right. He advised me to eat something. The thosai tasted like paper and I pushed the plate away. We headed for the police station nearby and this time, I kept close to Alex.

A kind elderly policeman took me into a room where I tried to narrate the incident. We saw several women complaining loudly to an officer. Alex told me they were also victims of snatch thefts. Somehow the thought that I was not the only victim comforted me.

Alex sent me to school with some money when I insisted on going. I sat bravely through the meeting without uttering a word. I waited nervously for Alex to pick me up but he was late. Mei, my friend, offered to walk me home. Each time we crossed a road, I clutched her hand. Each motorcyclist that came by looked suspicious to me.

That night, after saying a prayer with my mother, I finally broke down and cried. I could not sleep as images of those two men lurked in my mind but I was thankful that I was not hurt. I resolved to be more alert the next time. I struggled for a few hours before exhaustion took over. I shall never forget this day for the rest of my life.
(494 words)
Taken from: http://paduka2.blogspot.com/2009/10/continuous-writing.html