There was a rabbit on the pavement. A big, fluffy, white rabbit with pretty clothes.

As I stood wondering how on earth did the rabbit happen to be here on the dirty and throng footpath in the middle of one of the busiest city in the world like Bangkok where Easter meant nothing, it turned its head looking at me with those pair of ruby eyes. This is crazy, somebody has clearly forgotten their pet, I concluded.

Or maybe, work drives me mad.

My iPhone rang. I saw the number and sighed. It was the customer who wanted to cancel their booked order by putting the blame on us. They were complaining that the documents which we submitted half a year ago were enough to their satisfaction then but not now. And thanks to that, it's our fault. I apologized (for what I don't know but I have to) for the hundredth times and promised to deliver whatever more documents they wanted if they could take the product when two other calls came in.

No one had ever told me working in a family corporate is a tough job, nor that business is such a trickily unfaithful world. Responsibility weighted like mountains on my shoulders. I tried so hard to endure it and put in so much effort to make an improvement. It was stressful but I couldn't give up. I had to do it for my family.

Did not bother to get under the shade, I got the call and listened to what else another customer had to say, made the most reasonable and polite explanation I could while glimpsing at those cotton fur. It ended with another ring from Samsung—the con for having too many phones. This one was another customer requesting for product's sample.

"Yes, of course." I said timidly to the phone. "I'll prepare one for you and deliver it as soon as I can. Thank you very much for thinking of us."

The stream of calls finally halted and I saw that there were almost sixteen new mails in my inbox. I sighed again. Not just the customers, the suppliers had been a pain in my ass too demanding sale rise every other month, if not week. Usually I would check them right away but now I wanted to look at the rabbit.

It was still here, in front of me, just looking at it and all the worries in the world morph into a small dimple. I thought back during my high school year when we had lots and lots of fun with the stray cats in front of our house. They were so adorable. But time had moved on, our ages grew old, our feelings grew apart. That's what the harsh reality of the world do to you, it drained our liveliness away. Now the old frail cats only looked at me as their kitchen—or maybe slave.

This rabbit looks clean enough, maybe I could pat it.

I bent down patting the cute creature. A strand of chestnut-color dyed hair fell across my eyes which were twitching in amazement at the work of the embroidered cloth it had on. Looking along the gold-trimmed red velvet, I wondered if the adorable animal was not at all hot in this climate and in that thick piece of cloth. I was sweating a bit in the sun but, anyway, this was a delightful walk from singing class. I took singing class about three months ago to relax and get a glimpse of my old unachievable dream. It was also a mean of escape when I couldn't cope with the ugly truths of the world.

The rabbit shook itself and hopped away to the bushes nearby. I followed it just to see where it went. A blond hair girl was standing over there playing with her phone. At first glance, I thought it was a foreigner, but her eyes and face told me she was half. She was very pretty though. She stepped aside and walked away as I edged over to see.

The rabbit was behind the bush nudging its pale pink nose at the leaves and its pink paw. Probably safer from the stamping feet and stray dogs over here, I have to go now.

As I turned away, a small voice rose from somewhere. "Princess."

Huh?

"Princess, I've found you."

I looked around. The voice was very close, very squeezy and funny.

"Princess, come with me."

It came again and made me looked down at the rabbit. It was crazy. It couldn't possibly be the rabbit. I was looking at it just in case there was some sort of device nearby.

But then the rabbit stood up on its hind legs and offered its hand. "Come." It said.

I stared at the creature, bewildered. A talking rabbit! I clearly had gone from stress-out to insane.

The rabbit hopped and touched my hand and a swirl of darkness appeared behind the creature. The darkness was growing as I was swallowed deeper inside of it. I looked back at the people walking busily on the street and no one seemed to notice anything as the picture of Bangkok I know dwindled into nothingness.

Am I just fainting? Or really going to Wonderland?