Hoseok: 15 September Year 20

Jimin's mother walked across the emergency room. First, she checked the name on the head of the bed, then the IV fluids, and then took a leaf off of Jimin's shoulder. I approached Jimin, feeling as if I needed to talk about why he was in the emergency room, why he suddenly had a seizure at the bus stop. Discovering me for the first time, Jimin's mother stared at me for a while with an inquiring gaze. Not knowing what to do, I stood nervously. Jimin's mother said thank you in one word and turned around. 

 

Jimin's mother faced me again when the doctor and nurses came in and started to wheel his bed away, and I followed. Jimin's mother said thank you one more time and pushed my shoulder. It's more accurate to say she placed her hand on my shoulder and took it away. I suddenly felt a line between me and her. The line was certain and hard. It was cold and sturdy. It was a line I absolutely could not cross. After spending over ten years in the orphanage, I could feel the line with my body, through her gaze, and in the air. On an impulse, I took a step back and fell to the floor. Jimin's mother looked down at me with a blank stare. She was a small and beautiful woman, but her shadow was large and cold. That kind of shadow was cast upon me, lying on the emergency room floor. I lowered my head and couldn't see Jimin's bed leaving the room. After that day, Jimin didn't come back to school.

 

@shootinghearts_

 

 

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