“Hey mom.” Jieun started on an early Saturday morning, while pouring milk into her bowl of cheerios. It was one of those rare days when one of her parents had taken a break from work.

                “Yeah honey?” her mother responded almost automatically, breaking her gaze from the tabloid she had been engrossed in. Locking eyes with her mother, Jieun had lost all the words and found them clogged up in , thus being unable to speak at first. “What’s the problem honey? You know you can tell mommy everything right?”she said in a worrisome tone.

                Jieun merely shook her head and smiled. “It’s nothing serious mom.” She began and gave off a l[t]ight – hearted laugh. Though inwardly grimaced. She couldn’t tell her mother everything now, maybe she had and could have told her everything back then. Because from the tales she’d heard about herself, she didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

                “Do you know that lady from the other floor that moved in just a week ago?”

                Her mom gave her an apologetic look. “Oh I’m sorry honey, I don’t seem to have heard of anyone one moving in recently.”

                “She claims to have been my nanny.”

                “Oh really?” Her mother seemed surprised and worried at the same time. “What was her name?” the question had the implication of doubt.

                “I don’t know. I didn’t catch it that time.”

                “Then I suppose I must have a chat with her then.” Her mother replied with a strain in her voice. She had become ‘somewhat’ over-protective of her. It came at times when going out with new friends had been too much of a struggle.

                “Ok then.” Jieun tried to sound indifferent and shoved a spoonful of cheerios into just to keep it preoccupied. A thick wave of silence engulfed the two of them, it had become unbearable to keep mum.  

                “What was I like when I was a kid?” she asked in between chews, in which earned a reprimanding look from her mother. Swallowing what was in , she repeated the question again.

                  And by the devil, in an awful turn of events her mother’s phone started ringing.

                “You should take it. Bet it’s probably important.”Jieun says without skipping a beat. Her cold tone betrays the small smile plastered on her face. “I’ll be in my room.” And she left without another glance.

                Her mom merely sighed; a dejected expression marred her graceful features as she picked up the phone. “Assistant Yoon. You better have a perfectly good reason to call me on my day off.”

                “Had a change of plans?” Jieun asked while emerging from her room to see her mother fixing her make-up. She looked up, her graceful features that Jieun had inherited were etched with remorse. “I’m sorry honey.” She began as she took another glace at the vanity mirror before getting on her feet to scramble to another part of the living room. “Something came up in the company; they said it was an emergancy.” she adds while turning her head, obviously looking for something.

                 Curious about her mother’s sudden lack of composure she usually had despite having being late so many times before, she let her eyes follow the distressing figure and later found a dusty box in her mother’s arms. “What’s this?” she aks as she takes the box into her own arms and raises a questioning brow.

                “Photo albums.” She answers as she checks her make-up one more time and retrieves her handbag that had been on the couch. “You never really got a good look at them when you were discharged from the hospital. Maybe it’s time you got a good look at it yourself.” She says as fast as a bullet and kisses her daughter on the forehead before she’s out of the door. Jieun wonders how she even managed to understand.

                She spares the dusty box a glaring look before dropping it to the ground without a bit of hesitation. Taking the box’s top off, she is greeted by the familiar glossy covers of numerous colorful albums in all shapes and sizes.

                Taking each book out of the box, it only takes minutes for her to skim through them. Her mother had been right about her not looking into them when she was first discharged, but it would have been idiotic of her to not check the pictures it had it them once in a while. And she’s more than aware that she looked into them more than just a few times whenever she was alone.

                The glimpse of photos gave her the same vague and empty feeling as usual; though she might or might not have had caught a glance at a photo of the lady downstairs who had been a lot younger in the picture than she was now.

                But besides that, there was nothing.

                Discarding the scrapbooks in the box, she quickly took it into her arms and abandoned the worn out cardboard cube beside one of the coaches and retreated to her bedroom.

                And laying on her desk that stood across her door, it’s faded glossy surface was begging just to be noticed. Though it did more than catch her lingering gaze. Making her way to the farthest corner of the room, the girl picked it up with her thumb and forefinger and plopped herself down in bed, raising the photo in the air so as it wouldn’t get crumpled.

                She laid there wondering how much one picture could bring her pale sights of herself being in the photo; on a partly rock-strewn road in the midst of flowering cherry blossoms.

                Though he doubt of the beautiful sight might be one of the many desperate delusions she’s had for coping.

                Her eyes trace whatever intricate details she could find, the undeniable blue sky marred with white and fluffy clouds, the birds flying from the distance, a woodland creature subtly scurrying behind its shadows and the perfect line of petals that seemed to flutter with the breeze slowly leading them to the east’s side.

                She wondered how could such a perfect photo could ever be in her hands. She had no recollection or anyone tell her she had been in photography.

                Using her finger to trace the travel of the petals, carefully doing so as a pirate would sense the presence of treasure. And with her finger, she marked the X on the obscure treasure map. The words were hanging on the edge in delicately fine script.

                The sad sleeping bear.