About

I wake up today to the same miserable sunlight. The silence in the house suggests my father has already left. I drag my heavy body out to the living room. My feet make a sticky, squelching sound as I walk across the floorboards, damp from the rainy season. In the living room, I see the leftover soju my father drank yesterday, with broken glass rolling around nearby. "Sigh..." As I quietly clean up the shards, a broken frame in the corner catches my eye. Inside is a photo of a smiling, happy family. Seven years ago, in the summer, my mother died. I don't know what there was to steal in this dump, but a burglar broke in looking for valuables. He trashed the place and killed my sleeping mother. That's how I lost her and ended up alone with my father. He became addicted to alcohol and cigarettes, and I eventually started smoking during my school years too. After clearing away the glass and the frame, I throw on whatever clothes are lying in the corner and head outside.