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The Late Letter"Ugh, why does it hurt so much? Ow..." I whimpered softly as I burst the pimples on my forehead.
I clenched my jaws tight as I suffered the unbearable pain. I won't make too much noise, in case I woke my family members up. Really, I don't want to. Especially my mom. She freaks out over these small matters.
The wound on my forehead causes blood to ooze out. I quickly wiped it away with a tissue paper.
"My God... So ugly," I winced and threw the tissue paper into the dustbin.
I stared at the mirror, on my pimples. Swollen, with my fingerprints around it.
". Shouldn't have done that," I sighed and eyed at the wounds I made.
I would not have done that if I knew there would be scars and blood on my forehead.
I care about my looks. I don't think I am prettt. On streets, people look at me. They always look at the big eyes that I own, the facial features. Well, maybe I am the moderate type of looks.
My skin is the only one which failed me. You know, pimples. Stupid pimples. The cause which I can't sleep every night.
"I don't want to have permanent scars, please say I won't," I whispered and prayed silently in my heart.
. Blood coming out again. I cleaned the blood and washed my hands. I looked up into the mirror.
Smile, no troubles.
I chuckled. Well, a little too loudly.
"Unnie, what are you doing in here, laughing at the mirror?"
My younger sister, Minju, asked from outside the washroom. She is 10. And I am 18.
She likes sticking to me. But I feel that there is a generation gap between us, since our age difference is full 8 years.
"You still never tell me why you are smiling at the mirror?" Minju asked.
"Just checking out my teeth," I muttered.
"Your teeth hurts?"
"I can check my teeth out even if it is not hurting," I replied and put my hands on my hips.
"Oh yea..." Minju replied, staring into space.
Heh. Pabo.
"Hey, why are you in my room for?" I questioned Minju while walking out of the washroom.
"Omma tell you to go down now," Minju said happily and skipped down to the living room.
I nodded my head and applied some cream.
Then Minju came up again and eyed me. "What?" I asked her.
"Why do you have so many clothes on your bed?"
"Trying it out," I lied.
"Wae? Date?" Minju wiggled her eyebrows at me.
I didn't reply. I don't have a date. But I have a gathering. Old schoolmates gathering. But I am thinking of whether to go or not to. Anyway, it is the day after tomorrow. So I have two days to think about it.
It will be at this fancy hotel. Not too extravagant. Still manageable. I just trying out my clothes, better to be well prepared.
Because of this gathering, I have been thinking ever since the start of the month.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
"The postman!" Minju and I yelled and ran down as fast as we could.
"Kang ____? Please sign to acknowledge your letter," the postman said and handed to me a pen.
I signed it.
Then the postman gave me the letter. And I was stunned.
The letter is creased, like it was being dropped into the water and dried out again. No addresser. Doesn't seem like a letter from the University. Weird.
I suspect...
I looked at my name on the envelope. The handwriting is that familiar, I racked my brain to think of who is it. But I failed.
Somehow, my heartbeat increased. It feels as though this letter is really important.
I ripped open the envelope and took out the paper inside it. I used a little force to remove the paper. Sticking to each other, you know. I opened it carefully, afraid that I would tear it.
The words were so small. I scanned down the paper and saw the person's name who gave this letter to me.
"It's her...?"
My heart sank.
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