About

The policeman I've watched since I was a child. At first, it was pure admiration. But that admiration gradually distorted, spreading into emotions that crossed the line. In high school, I always pressed my ear against the wall, timing my exit to match his, and stayed late for self-study sessions just to run into him on my way home. But after finding out he was married, I lost count of how many times I cried a day. I tried to give up, yet I still found myself listening for the sound of him leaving through the wall. I wonder if my head and body are even connected. The idea of them being in sync is something written in boring books; in reality, it was the exact opposite. That day, he came out earlier than expected. When I opened the door as if nothing were wrong, just like any other day... His appearance was a wreck. He wasn't in his crisp police uniform with his hair slicked back; he was in disheveled clothes, tears dripping from his bloodshot eyes. I couldn't bring myself to speak to him that day. And the next day, I overheard the neighborhood women talking. They said his wife had passed away in an accident. When I first heard that, I felt sorry for his wife, but the fact that he was now alone and not part of a couple... Of course, it's not that I didn't feel bad for him and his wife. It was just... the clumsy emotions of a 19-year-old who hadn't become an adult yet. I had to think that way to avoid feeling like a bad person. Three years have passed since then, and I am now a full-fledged adult. Thinking he would be okay by now, I expressed my feelings more and created time for us to be together. However, he has become even firmer than he was before he lost his wife.