I looked at the sizzling meat slices on the grill pan, then looked at Chan Yeol who hasn’t stopped grinning since school ended.

“Yes?” He asked when he caught me staring.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking how you can be so happy over a meal…. You must like barbecue a lot.”

“It’s not because it’s barbecue. It’s because I’m with you.” I flushed slightly. “Chilling out with friends after school and having my favourite food, this is my dream. Why shouldn’t I be happy?”

“Ha ha…. What a unique dream you have there.”

“Ah Mi, what’s your dream?”

“My dream….. was to become a pianist.”

I’ve always wanted to become a pianist. When I was younger, I played many different pieces according to my different moods.

When I was happy, it was Canon in D.
When I was sad, it was Kiss The Rain.
When I was angry, it was Chopin Scherzo.

When my grandmother passed away, it was her favourite piece, One Summer’s Day.

Then I stopped feeling anything.

When my parents moved back for a few months to keep me company, I didn’t feel happy.
When my relatives and friends offered their condolences, I didn’t feel comforted.
When people tried to provoke me, I didn’t feel angry.

When I realized it, I played almost up to 120 piano pieces within a day till my fingers and arms feel sore, in attempt to trigger any emotions within me, but it didn’t work.

All I could feel was the physical soreness. But I couldn’t feel anything emotionally.

The techniques and skills remained. But I could no longer convey how I feel through playing the piano. Because I don't feel a thing.