[CONTENTID1] daιѕιeѕ [/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]  [/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3] ❝αℓℓ ѕнє ωαитє∂ ωαѕ ѕσмє gℓιттєя ιи нєя ℓιfє.  

ѕραякℓє ιи нєя єуєѕ, αи∂ α ℓσνєя ωнσ нα∂ fιяє ιи нιѕ fσя нєя.  

тнαт ωαѕ нєя fαιяутαℓє, нєя нαρριℓу єνєя αfтєя.❞ [/CONTENTID3]

[CONTENTID4]

 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟺 August 𝟷𝟷

Pitter...Patter…

Drip...Drop…

The sound of the soft sprinkling rain splashed the creaky, pale roof. It was a mellow, yet piercing rhythm that played in her ears over and over.

She imagined nothing more than to be sitting in her beige-colored chair.

She would sit at the balcony below the ceiling that protected her, gradually rocking her chair to the light drumming of the drops. A cup of hot-brewed herbal tea in her hand as she cozily sunk into the soft mattress, with a silent gaze at the dulcet drizzle with so much mesmerization in her eyes, as if she was seeing a niveous snow angel descending from the sky.

A musty and damp odor whiffed toward her nostrils where she breathed in with a sigh. The fresh, petrichor gust played through her loose strands that escaped from her bun, not forgetting to leave a kiss on the bare skin of her neck.

It was fortunate that the droplets had not struck down too hard, she would have thought. It would have been laborious to replant her abundance of flowers that laid vertically in front of the balcony.

She would carefully peer at the teardrops that slithered down on the white columns of the porch. Each dot gliding down one by one in a single line to collide amongst each other at the rear end. The clear reflection of the pond was connected to the desolate clouds, stumbling across the hoary horizon. It wept vociferously, as though to express its sadden state on an innocent afternoon day. The once milky hue vanished into the thin air, replaced with the murkiest color that no one would have dared to spare a second glance.

In spite of that, she did not mind.

Eyes closed, she would daydream herself in another world. Like the fantasies from her novels, she conceived of magical realms. The riveting, surreal adventure she would come across, the extraordinary mythical creatures that skulk amidst the verdant healthy trees — it was unlike any other. The irresistible beauty, the purity and the compassion of the land urged her to be free. She would hop from her chair and bolt into the rainfall, spreading her arms out in glee as she twirls with no such thing as a concern in the world.

Instead, she was here.

As if a glass mirror had dropped to the floor with a blaring crack, she suddenly recalled where she was.

The aged, ramshackle wooden chair would let out a screeching shriek with every inch she fidgets. It reminded her of keen, long nails relentlessly scraping against a chalkboard, which caused her to wince. She forced herself to stay still, begging inside that she will not afford to squirm to release out another shrilling cry.

The raven-haired woman remained as promised, heavily ignoring the aching muscles that strained on her back. It would be an awful lie if she had said she felt comfortable. Particularly as the spadiceous sturdy board of the chair uninvited her with its frigid touch, or how the mid rail awkwardly dug inside of her middle back, making her chest stick out slightly more than necessary. Maybe, it was the unstable seat itself as it repeatedly wiggled from side to side, resulting in her to pray she would not break the furniture and harshly collapse on the cemented floor. It gave her better the reason to stay static, especially if she did not want to feel the pounding torment of her now-bruised bottom.

She wanted to sarcastically laugh at herself, for anyone was not dumb to see her painful, strict posture. Leg crossed over the other, she hoped her vinous skirt would be able to conceal the burden tension written across her pale skin. Both hands which presented were peacefully folded, when actually were clasped harder than any could ever vision, as she struggled to maintain her weary trembling. Lastly with castaneous orbs dilating afar, as though to freeze like a carved statue.

In other terms, she appeared ridiculous.

Here she sat in an empty area. Pallid, flavescent walls circled around her like a prison jail. There was no way of guessing how many years it had been last cleaned, especially how the grubby and dank smell wrinkled her nose in disgust. As dense as mud, the stale air almost managed to choke her. It would be easy enough to simply cough out the imaginary dust tickling if she was alone in the room. But to prevent any possible revolted looks thrown at her, she clamped shut.

All she heard was the hard and swift scribbling across the paper. The more her eyes lingered on the blue fancy ballpoint pen waltzing so briskly on the parchment, the more she wondered how soon it will be until it will fly out of the owner’s hand.

Her vision began to trail upwards until settling on a middle-aged man. Hints of white strands struck out on the sleek back hairstyle. Skin tone as pasty as a ghost, she questioned whether or not he had ever seen a speck of sunlight. Crinkly lines embed deeply beyond his face and underneath the ebony bags of his eyes. Following the large bump on the bridge of his nose down to the evident snarl traced over his lips, it prompted her of the big bad wolf from the three little pigs.

She bit her lip to let out a smile. However, the moment she met a pair of harsh pitch-black eyes, her expression instantly faded.

“Miss Sooyoung.”

She almost let out a surprised squeal, not expecting the sudden call.

“Yes, Mr. Gordon?” she gradually replied.

His glare cut into her eyes as if it to challenge her to make any dimwitted mistake. “It is written here that your aunt is handicapped,” he glanced at the document for a second. “Is that correct, Miss Sooyoung?”

The lady politely nodded. “That is true.”

Sooyoung expected him to respond, normally since it was courteous to ask how her frail aunt was doing. But when he returned back to his deafening silence and the redundant scrawling of the pen, she was genuinely not surprised.

“After you graduated high school at the age of 18, you became a licensed practical nurse at John Hopkins Hospital once passing the drug test, criminal background check, concluding other training programs, and obtaining a license. From what I know, the LPN programs only take at least a year to two years to complete. When you accomplished in earning your Associate’s degree, you resumed to work at the hospital you were working at for two years.

However, it is ideal you should go straight towards becoming a registered nurse. As you know well that I am correct, it is also stated right in front of me y