The huge board with the departure and arrival indications was towering over him and a couple tens of other late-night passengers.     "Passengers of flight SM094 to Mokpo proceed to gate B19. Departure is due to twenty minutes."     The metallic sound ringed from a secret corner, making him cringe. That would be his call. Other announcements soon followed and a horde of people moved to their gates. Hyukjae frowned as he was pushed from all directions, forced to walk even if he wanted to be last on the line.   Couldn't he just stay forever on a airport's hard, uncomfortable bench? Keep waiting for the same airplane day after day... Couldn't he just live like that?   Another rough shove and he stumbled forward, hitting a man's back.     "You punk! Watch it!"   "Sorry..." the younger murmured but the other had already turned and walked away.     Hyukjae followed with his eyes a couple of documents slipping from the man's leather bag as he strode quickly forward. Leaving something important behind, something that - most likely - was essential to his life.   Just like Hyukjae...   He was leaving behind so many things... But there was no one there to watch this. Not for him.   Shoved again and tens of muddy shoes walked over the papers, dirtying them so fast. So easily. It was scary.   The man reverted his stare and, paying little attention, he showed his ID card and last-minute purchased ticket to the inspector.     "Have a nice and safe trip!" the woman smiled and bowed after returning the identification.   "I don't hope so..."     His murmur wiped the smile off the female's face, a disturbed expression replacing the previous smiling one.     What do you care about?     Down the corridor and in the bumblebee, Hyukjae wishing the plane would fall after gaining enough height. And while he kept wishing that, the night sky surrounding him - up and down, left and right - his eyes were fixed on a distant star. The only one on the sky.   Everything was black and the darkness thick, it could be cut with a knife. But only that star persisted, shining despite the loneliness. Hyukjae kept his eyes on that star even when the frosty air blurred the small window. The light was still visible.     His breath fogging the glass more. His index finger moving as if by its own. Writing two Ts on it. Like this: T T   Where those tears? Or not...     Through the newly formed lines, the star shone in the starless sky. And as they kept flying further and further in the night, clouds and mist slowly covered everything. Struggling to put up a fight worthy of its spirit, the star's light trembled for a few minutes - on and off - but then it was gone. in the vast darkness. And the sky was left completely empty.   A drop of water - water vapor formed by the imbalance of warm inside and cold outside - escaped from the window's frame. It run straight down in an unbelievable speed, smudging one T.     Hyukjae winced. Only one T wasn't good. No star in his sky wasn't good.   He closed his eyes and pressed hid temples hard. Wishing for the plane to crush down. Wishing for his lightless life to end...    

 

  Landing a few hours later, the scenery was unfamiliar.   His heart beating faster and faster the moment he stepped out of the airport. He stood in front of the automatic glass doors, trying to ignore the greetings - hugs, joyous yells, kisses - those waiting had for the just-landed people. The wind was blowing mercilessly there too, cutting more to the bone due to the shore's proximity.   Hyukjae wrapped tighter his jacket around his body and searched with his narrowed eyes for a free taxi. Families, couples and others had already boarded most of them. A smiling driver at his mid-forties looked expectantly at him. The young man's frown returned. That driver seemed way too safe.   Dismissing the man's persistent stare by walking away, Hyukjae spotted an old taxi, rust visible around the doors and other parts of it. The driver was resting against the door, a thick cigar between his ring-clad fingers, black smoke shrouding his features. His belly was swollen, probably from too much cheap beer. Loud, third rate music was blasting from inside the vehicle and a pair of fuzzy, neon green di