Run. Stop.
Excerpt Collection
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A short excerpt IV: Angst
The house feels empty. The girls are out. Manager unnie went home an hour earlier. None of the lights are switched on. No sounds of water flowing in the bathroom, sizzles in the kitchen, the closing of a door in the hallway, the alien voices coming from the TV, the ear-murdering singing by people who call themselves singers, the awful bickering of those full-grown-up kids. Just me and her. We’re supposed to revel ourselves in the company of each other. We’re supposed to run around like 4-year- olds, playing cop and thief, and hide and seek. We’re supposed to have pillow fights, making a mess in the living room and all the others’ rooms. We’re supposed to hold a food war in the kitchen, cooking when we know we are helpless cooks. We’re ought to make full use of the alone time the members had intentionally given us.
But we’re not. We’re not running. We’re not cooking. We’re not playing. We’re not moving. We’re not talking. We’re not enjoying each other’s esprit de corps. We’re dwelling in the silence. We’re lodging in the agony. We’re stalling the inevitable end.
I know it hurts her and she knows it hurts me. But in spite all this, we know there’s nothing neither of us could do about it. We know there’s no way for us to go around it. Thus here we are, sittin
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