donghae

It’s a cold, cold day—winter has indeed settled over the city. Wind is blowing unrepentantly, strong and harsh, pushing Donghae to hide in the relative shelter of the nearest bus station. His eyes are red and tired, while the lower part of his face is hidden beneath a thick scarf. The small hairs at the back of his head stand up to attention when another drought hits him from all sides. Donghae shivers.

Above his head, clouds hold the threatening promise of rain. Or maybe is it snow? Donghae tucks his hands in his pockets, sighing. Thick condensation flows out through his parted lips and then fades quickly into the crispy air. With a small grimace, he sits down on the metal bench of the station. Another shudder cuts through him as he settles on the cold surface.

It’s maybe early, or maybe late. Donghae doesn’t have the strength to look up and check if it’s day or night; check when the next bus will come. He doesn’t even have the will to glance down at his watch. It’s cold and windy and the weather threatens to be gloomy all day long, and so he feels like acting sulky just a bit.

Faceless people go past and forth in front of him. Some are carrying briefcases, looking very important, and others shoulder heavy schoolbags. They’re frowning; sighing; looking much too stern. Donghae blinks. He wonders, i