Notes

Hyun Soo



Cold lips. Cold hands. Cold sheets. Cold atmosphere. Cold breaths. Cold heart.

These things used to be warmer. It used to be that my lips and hands were always touching his lips and hands and it used to be that the sheets were warmer with him curled up inside them with me. It used to be that my temporary happiness was warmer than what my temporary sadness is now. It used to be very warm in this cold, cold room.

Used to be. I say these words as if it happened eternities ago, although it feels as if it did. It was only last week. On a Tuesday.

My slow week footsteps on the cold, hard wood steps leading down to my cold kitchen. And my cold leftovers from two nights ago. Why do even the normal things in my life become cold, even when it's only the complicated things in my life that are having problems?

6:00am. My mom is off of work. She'll be home to torture me again in less than 15 minutes. Torture me with her ignorant smiles and laughs, where I'm forced to laugh and smile back, joining her in her annoying and painful ignorance. It's like a game she doesn't even realize she's playing. Or like she's taken me as a prisoner of war and is pretending I'm on her side and have never been anywhere else. I hate it.

My slow, cold thoughts make the time go by quickly and are interrupted by the front door squeking open and then whining shut. My mother practically skips into the kitchen.

"Hyun Soo, did you wait for me? You didn't have to, dear, you could have slept longer." She chirps. I want to glare at her. Why would I wat for you, you nugget.

Instead I smile, but it feels more like a carved slit in my face. "It was no problem. How was work?"

"Tiresome as always. I brought home some more ramyun, we were all out. Do you want some?" She pulls them out from the plastic bag.

"No thanks mom. You should sleep, you have to work again tonight." I take the bag from her and pack the groceries away.

"Alright, well make sure you go to work today. I love you." She pinches my cheek and goes up the stairs to her bedroom.

I sigh, watching her leave and I sit down at the cold wooden kitchen chair. Work is in two hours and I still feel like it's not enough time to get ready.

I take a shower in the downstairs bathroom and turn the heat as far up as I can go without burning myself. Showers are starting to feel like the only hot thing left in the world. Or maybe it's just my world. Either way, I cherish the heat. But the water runs cold by the time I get out. I feel like I've just been thawed and then frozen again.

There's 1 hour left now, before work. I work at a bookstore so I'm allowed to wear what I want. But I wish we were required to wear a uniform so I wouldn't have to choose my outfit.

I end up with a gray sweater and black jeans and black boots and a black jacket and I black scarf and I don't put on any makeup. But I know I would get in trouble if I went to work with my hair looking like this, so I at least brush it. I look dreary and unpleasant and I'll feel guilty to my boss if it scares people away, but it can't be helped. Today I am dreary, so today I will look dreary.

I walk to the bus stop as if I'm walking through syrup, partly on purpose because I'm in no mood to go to work and partly because it actually feels like I'm walking through syrup. I barely catch the bus and it starts moving before I can get my seat. I lose my balance and fall to my knees. I get up and slowly sit down at the back of the bus.