BOMI: I sure love being sick. Cough
syrup comes in such fantastic flavours,
like limes at their own funeral-

NAMJOO, sniffling: The festering corpse of
a cherry-

EUNJI, with a fever: The broken hopes and
dreams of various berries-

CHORONG, trying not to sneeze: Sunshine
twinkling on the apocalyptic wasteland
of a post-nuclear war hellscape-

HAYOUNG, not even sick: Death.

NAEUN, watching from afar: why am I even here?