Lights.

Bright, yellowish-white, startling lights.

Blinding lights.

Hyejeong’s (or rather, her parents’) car was cruising through the cobble-pathed road, bumpily making its way towards the city centre.

Where Hyejeong surmised Seolhyun must be.

Her hands jerked nervously, anxiously, on the wheel. She was no inexperienced, or inebriated driver, but what with the panic coursing through her veins and the worry clouding her head that she made it seem quite like that.

Her car speeding down the roads now, trying its best to make it to the highway leading to the city.

Her coat still on, causing her to sweat too much internally, and it awkwardly tucked into the tight confines of her seat.

Her shoes the wrong design—one, in fact, was from her slipper closet. The other was her dress shoe.

Her heart, beating so fast, so fast that she wasn’t sure if the reason why she couldn’t see the road in front of her clearly anymore was purely because of how bright the streetlights seemed.

A red light, the last barrier between her and the highway, appeared. Normally, Hyejeong was probably a law abiding citizen, and definitely respectful of traffic rules. But not tonight; her eyes didn’t register the red of the traffic signal.

Only the image of Seolhyun drifting away, forever out of her grasp.

Only the thought of getting to her as fast as possible.

A truck sounded a large horn from her periphery, and Hyejeong swerved aside just in time to avoid a nasty collision. But amidst the swears from the truck driver, or the faint wail of a police siren in the distance, Hyejeong heard none of it.

Faster.

Faster.

Your girl is there, waiting for you.

Faster. Faster. Faster.

It took Hyejeong until she arrived at the city area to realise that she had no clue exactly which hospital Seolhyun was in. She cruised along the streets, which even now were still busy, frantically jogging her memory for any trace of knowledge of where Seolhyun was. Before she remembered oh so clearly that that voice recording didn’t mention which hospital Seolhyun was at.

She cursed to herself, before loading up a list of hospitals within the metropolitan area, deciding to run through each and every one until she found Seolhyun. Each and every one.

“Annyeong!” Hyejeong shouted, breathless, as she made her first foray into a hospital for quite some time. She had barely managed to find parking space near the hospital, and fuelled by adrenaline dashed all the way here. “I’m looking for a patient named Kim Seolhyun.”

“Sorry, mam, but please queue up,” the receptionist politely pointed out to Hyejeong, slight annoyance tinting her voice. “We have an orderly system over here.”

Hyejeong cursed herself for not realising that queue in her panic, and for landing herself in this mortar of embarrassment and judgement from the other people in the hospital. She waited in line for a meagre five minutes, but what with the thoughts she had in her mind that easily seemed like hours to her.

She was in a daze when her foot shuffled to the front of the line, and the snarky receptionist called to her for her request. It took a few repetitions, however, before Hyejeong snapped out of it, and realised that it was her turn.

“I’m…I’m looking for a patient here,” Hyejeong stammered out, re-focusing back on the issue at hand, the steely gaze of the receptionist and the lateness of the night not really helping her out.

“Well, who?” the receptionist replied. Hyejeong swore that that steel in her gaze multiplied itself and manifested itself in her voice, such was the sternness and the fed-up-ness (?) of her tone.

“Kim…Kim Seolhyun,” Hyejeong spat out her name, almost half afraid of that receptionist. Sheesh.

The receptionist’s gaze finally broke contact with hers, and travelled down to her computer. A few prolonged clicks and scanning rose Hyejeong’s heart, but it quickly plummeted back down soon later.

“I’m sorry,” said the receptionist (whose expression was really sorry-ful), “but we have no record of such a patient staying here right now.

“Aa…ahhh,” replied Hyejeong, before clutching her bag next to her body tightly, and dashing back out of the hospital, and back into her car.

Turning the key in the ignition.

Slamming the car door shut.

Revving up the engine.

Driving back out onto the road.

Check the directory for the next hospital in the list.

Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

-----

It dances.

It wavers.

It floats, snakes, travels, much like a sprightly young spring, down the base of her palm.

Free. Unbidden.

Emancipated.

Its creator gasped a little, though it was more out of habit than anything. This wasn’t new. This was regular.

Just…a tad larger in magnitude than before.

A grin started creeping onto her face as the pain began to subside.

Well, not really subside. Just replace. Overridden. Dominated, by euphoria. By release.

A sigh of satisfaction escaped from her lips, as her shoulders began to relax, followed by her arms, followed by her legs, followed by her torso. Followed by everything.

Flashes of panic, of her fraught past, danced across her rapidly blanking mind, which only drew a more confident assertion of delight from her lips. She was beyond it, beyond her hardships. Beyond her love.

Like a dragon, flying into the sky. Free of its chains. Free of its duties. Dancing, prancing, singing, in greatest liberation, across the night sky, under the street lights, above the clouds.

Free.

If you want me to go so much, then please let me go.

-----

The car pulled into a street corner, this time on the remotest outskirts of Seoul. Hyejeong had gone through 30 hospitals (or was it 29? 28? 10? She couldn’t tell anymore; she was that tired), and it was 2am by the time she had removed the key from the ignition, and slammed her car doors shut.

The lights disoriented her, the distance between her and the doors seemed great, and something about the night just made her want to crawl back into her bed, or the car even, and just go to sleep. But she couldn’t.

Love was a powerful motivator, they said, and Hyejeong let out a slight chuckle to herself. She had never found herself craving petrol station coffee as much as she did that night.

One foot forward, another foot forward, first foot forward. And then we will get there.

The doors noiselessly slid open, and Hyejeong swore that that door was just as sluggish, as tired as her. Maybe machines were tired too, like some auto-save power mode or something.

Or maybe the fatigue was just driving her delirious.

The blast of air-con struck her head on, and the bright lights blinded her, as Hyejeong stumbled confusedly into the cool, empty halls of the hospital lobby. Wide. Spacious. Yet conspicuously empty.

Just like my heart.

Hyejeong made her way (eventually) up to the receptionist, this time a burly man in his 50s, looking just like what you’d expect a night shift worker to be. His expression lightened up slightly as Hyejeong approached, as if he was having his first conversation with a functioning human being for quite awhile.

“What brings you here?” enquired the receptionist, perhaps a tad bit too loudly, his booming voice reverberating around the