My pathetic attempt at a first part of a first chapter

It was not so much of the blazing heat than the musty humidity that made Jack uncomfortable. Gosh. How was he going to last a year in this weather if those 10 steps from the taxi stand to the taxi boot was already that bad?

Having loaded up his well-worn bags of luggage, Jack perched on the cold plasticky backseat and asked, 'Can you take me to, ahhhh.... Changi Village?'

'Which part?', came the brusque reply from the taxi driver.

Jack passed the driver a crisp sheet of paper, neatly printed with an address and nothing else. The driver squinted at it with his horn-rimmed bifocals and made a non-committal grunt before hitting the accelerator. Everything looked and sounded unfamiliar. The glowing white lane markings looked unearthly pale, and even the screeching fan belt of the taxi sounded especially harsh.

Jack watched the meter in the taxi jump in a currency he was unfamiliar with, speeding through the sun-bleached expressway. He fingered the string on the manila envelope, wondering what the next 12 months has in store for him.

It wasn't about his job. That had been meticulously arranged by the head office back in Sydney. It wasn't about coping with the intricacies of asian culture - he had been Thailand for a month in his previous job.

It was all about Mark. And living in his home for the next year.

Mark and Jack had been virtual friends for a while. They had met in an online forum on Toyota sports cars. And inexplicably, a friendship developed over discussions over tyre treads, fuel consumption and gearboxes. Jack had always been fond of those hour-long conversations they had on instant messenger.

Maybe it was the liberty of being able to hide one's true emotions on the Internet, or maybe it was because there was nothing more than a painful verbal mudsling that could happen across those cables. They shared all their closest secrets with each other.

Except one.