“Let’s break up.”

Those words rang in my head. Questions were on the tip of my tongue but I stayed quiet.

He continued to speak but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

All I could think about was the time he made his first real promise to me. I had started running and hordes of people would ask, “Where are you running to? Why are you running? Why are you running? Why are you… Why are…. Why…” Then he pushed his way in and his words were so clear, “Run! Go. I will always be right behind you.”

I stood up. I wasn’t going to beg someone, who didn’t want to stay with me, to not leave. I turned and I walked away.

One month since the break up

I carried on with life. I pushed myself further and got my coach to train me harder. Every now and again I would see a familiar green jacket but when I turned to look closer, it was gone. So I continued running.

“Well done So-Hyun! That was a new personal best,” my coach said, “If you continue to improve so quickly, you will be able to compete in the national competition and be considered for the national team going to the Olympics next year.”

I nodded. This was what I was working towards. I was doing much better without him.

Two months since the break up

“So Hyun, do you want to come with us to the arcade? We want to go to the old place and just relive our younger days,” an old school acquaintance asked.

I shook my head and closed the door.

I didn’t want to think about my younger years, those years were filled with times I would rather not remember.

I walked round the house but then felt too caged. I put on some sneakers and left the house.

The wind was cold and I tried walking faster towards the shops.

It’s Christmas. All the shops were beautifully decorated with brightly coloured glass balls and metallic tinsel. Walking through the shopping district, everything seemed so dream-like and ethereal.

Various shops had sale signs and as I passed them I looked in to find something that I would like to see. I stopped in front of a small shop that sold little trinkets. I went in and found the snow-globe aisle. I picked up one with a dancing couple in a park. My memories threw me unceremoniously back to the Christmas ball that he and I attended. I hadn’t wanted to go but he had insisted that we should dress up and make use of the opportunity. He somehow found a white garden and we danced without music. It was probably one of my best memories that I have of Christmas.

A drop of water fell on the cold ball that I held. I put it down and walked out in a hurry. As soon as I was out of the shop I ran and ran until I felt that I was far away from everything. I couldn’t allow myself to remember. I took a few deep breaths and tried to bring my emotions back to a controllable state.

Three months since the break up

I could feel my coach’s worried gaze following each footfall. He indicated that I should stop and go to him for feedback. 

He sighed and said, “So-Hyun-ah, you have been doing exceptionally well. I am, however, a bit concerned about you. You are pushing yourself too hard in too short amount of time. You’re losing too much weight, your body can’t continue like this. Perhaps you would like to take the weekend off.”

I swallowed and tried to protest, “I am okay, I can do this. Don’t….”

He cut me off, “This isn’t a suggestion. I am telling you take the weekend off. Give yourself some rest and be young for two days.” He nodded to himself and then said, “Go run again but this time try to not over-extend your legs.”

I nodded and I ran.

A weekend. A weekend of time to think. It wasn’t what I needed no matter what people thought.  I planted myself in front of the television and curled up in a warm fluffy blanket. It was a decision of which horror to watch. Something old or something more thought-provoking were my choices. I didn’t usually watch horrors on my own but I truly enjoy the moments that I could scream without having to explain it. In a way it’s similar to going on a rollercoaster but I didn’t really want to be around people so this was close enough.

Six months since the break up

My hands felt numb. I looked at the mug that had somehow seemed to find itself on the floor. It was from him. I swallowed.

“So Hyun?” my mother said with worry etching her face. I stared blankly. She continued carefully, “He passed away last night. The funeral is in a week.”

I walked away. I felt oddly detached, not very much different from my emotions for the last six months. I threw away the emotion into an iceberg that I had created for myself since I was small.

I headed to the track and, as I started to stretch, the sky dripped with fluid. Luckily it lasted only until I needed to start running, the sun had somehow pierced through the dark clouds and a myriad of colours showered across the stretch of fading grey.