Autumn

She had lived a good life, at least, that was what she thought. She had lived every minute and every second with utmost purpose that she could confirm to herself that she had never wasted a blink of time. In her 29 years, she knew there was not much left that she could do. She had already done them, accomplished them, scratched each of them off her list. She was also happy, at least, that was what she thought. She was successful, had a job that she enjoyed, had family and friends. But somehow, despite the life she had made for herself, she still felt empty. What she had at present couldn’t make up for the void that she was aware she had inside of her. She didn’t understand why this was so, how she could have so much yet feel like she had so less, how it was possible for her to feel like that. But she knew why, she clearly knew the reason why, she just didn’t want to think about it or admit to it. She didn’t want to open her eyes.

There was a light from somewhere that was forcefully making her pull her eyelids up her eyes. She didn’t want to yet, not until it would disappear. She didn’t want to see the anything. She wanted to stay there wherever she was. She tossed and turned, left to right. She could feel something soft sinking from under her back. She tugged what was like a cloth to her neck and pushed her eyes tighter. But it was no use, there was strong sunlight going against her and she had no other choice but to see the world and the light that was illuminating the bedroom she wasn’t so familiar of.

Maybe it was the way that sunlight was screaming so loudly at her. Maybe it was the odd paintings that were mounted. Maybe it was just the white walls that surrounded her that made her feel very suffocated. But maybe it was just the arm that was now resting from over her waist which had tightened its grasp. She cursed herself for this. It wasn’t the first time that she had brought herself into this situation, a situation where she realized she was under the sheets in bed with someone she couldn’t remember. It had been happening too many times already and she finally declared to herself that maybe she hadn’t been living her life as good as before the past year. She had to do something, the same thing she always did when it was nearly noon and she was still in a stranger's bed.

Pushing the arm off her waist, Hirai Momo got out of bed and searched for her clothes. They were everywhere, so terribly scattered that she had to bend and kneel to retrieve every one of them. Underwear. Bra. Sweater. She zipped her jeans and felt something was no longer there. She tapped her hand in her pocket and remembered. Just then, she heard groaning and mumbling from the bed. She ignored the sounds and continued to remember where she might have placed her belongings.

“Where are you going?”

A gentle voice resounded in the room. The sleeping figure was now sitting with her back on the backboard. She was pretty, very pretty, Momo thought when she glanced at her. That took away the sober worry of sleeping with someone she didn’t know. She had one of those faces that would be mistaken for a celebrity or a model. This girl pulled a tired smile, her eyes were swollen probably from the lack of sleep or hangover. She also looked very young. Upon this realization, Momo thought for a brief moment that she might have been too young for her.

“I have somewhere to be,” she responded as she went around the room. “Have you seen my—”

“Phone? It’s in here,” the girl pointed to her bedside table.

Momo avoided eye-contact as she reached for her phone. She could feel the girl’s eyes watching her as she walked to the front trying to remember something else she might’ve forgotten. There was silence surrounding them, silence that was too awkward for two people to share. Momo didn’t want to speak first, nor did she want to be spoken to that moment. was dry and rough and it was unnecessary for her to respond to such questions with answers they both knew they would never mean. She just wanted to get out of there.

At last, she remembered. “Uhh have you seen my—”

“Your keys are beside that flower vase,” the girl said sweetly, pointing to the pink vase by the window. She ran her hand through her hair, making herself comfortable as she held onto the sheets that covered her entirety.

“Thanks,” Momo said as she grabbed her keys, the clinging ended the silent buzzing in her ear, “Jimin.”

She didn’t look back. It was almost when she was out the door did she turn her heel and appeared more apologetic to the innocent girl. “It’s Jiyeon, actually.”

“Oh,” she blew air from her nose. “I’m sorry, Jiyeon.”

“Will I see you again?”

Momo dismissed the question. She didn’t answer. This was the kind of question she avoided every morning but somehow the whole process of leaving after spending a night with someone she didn’t even know the correct name of wasn’t complete without it. So she spoke, regardless, and returned the same smile she received from the girl who appeared yearning for an answer.

“Yes, of course. I’ll just call you.”

“But you don’t have my number.”

She cursed again, cracking her head to the side before grabbing her phone and handing it to the young girl on the bed. Trembling hands took it and seeing this made Momo a little less irritated of the morning she was having so far. This girl was probably just like all those girls seeking for something true, wishing that in some of those nights they would meet the one for them. The look on her eyes said so, Momo thought. There was genuineness, some kind of innocence that was making her a vulnerable morning mess. She seemed like a very nice girl.

Momo looked at her for the last time, this time with more compassion. She didn’t know what that girl could be going through or what type of life she had but she seemed to deserve more than just being left alone in the morning. Momo had never felt her conscience sting like that. But there was nothing she could do. She also had things she was going through on her own. She smiled at the girl, lingering. It was the most she could do for her.