A warm fall breeze blew over us as I stood in the middle with a tangerine balled in my fist. We were ready to pay our last respect for mom in front of her funeral when the scent from the tangerine had rendered a sudden clarity and alertness that almost painful as being there.

I remembered every gestures her body made, like how a mother trying to hide her shaky lips above everything; A resentful plea in her voice whenever I said things like, ‘Mom, orange! Orange! Orange!’... Each portion of the memories ironically find its way projected into a bigger picture, as struggled as I was when mom's death finally sank in.

"Ah, I was just a little kid at her rebellious age... "

I'm not a brat. In fact, amongst the three of us, I was the most obdient one...right, mom?

Irrelevent thoughts of various excuses for all my wrongdoings in the past kept flooding in. Not knowing when it would stop, I just stared blankly upfront, trying so hard to remember how to breath.

"Sis, why did you bring orange here? It smells everywhere..."

My head titled to the side where Bogum clutched my hand. I mirrored myself in him, my little brother. I wish I would be able to tell him. I didn’t know that remembering all those little details would have cause every ounce of defence faded within me.