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The clock is showing half past 7 in the morning and the both of you are having breakfast. Junhoe is already neat and tidy in his proper shirt, ready for work, and is waiting for you to serve him the bowl of soup.

He suddenly chuckles to himself.

"What the . . . ," you mutter in response. "Are you okay? Do you happen to feel ill?" The soup is placed just by his rice but he doesn't proceed to eat it, still staring into thin air.

And then he starts smiling like a fool. Or more like a creepy smirk.

"Junhoe, seriously, you're scaring the hell outta me." Abruptly, you sit down across from him and snap your fingers right in front of his face. "Earth to Junhoe?"

"Huh?" He finally gets his senses back. "What is it?" His hand picks the spoon up and he begins to eat as if nothing happens.

"We've only been married for several months but have you gone mad already?" You wonder. "I'll get back to work and you can rest home if you want."

His eyebrows raise and he asks you, "What are you talking about?" in an utterly confused face.

"You're laughing and smiling to yourself, I think it's some--"

"I did?" You nod. And then he starts laughing again but this time he's looking at you. "I was just imagining you serving me breakfast in a lingerie."

In a second, your worry is gone, now replaced by annoyance and irritation. "You have a death wish, don't you?"
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