“I think God’s a man.” TOP claimed, he stared at the art on the convention’s walls, memorizing every detail of the painting and it’s frames.

“No God’s a woman. Look at this abstract painting, she’s a woman.” Yoobin replied as she walked next to him.

“No, he’s a man. See? Look. There’s a beard over here.” He said as he started pointing it, meanwhile, Yoobin sat on the chair and gave him a cold glare. “Seriously, she’s a woman. See? God is compared to a hen – a hen. It means she’s a woman.”

“Why can’t you just accept that God can be both a man and a woman?”

“See, you can expect from a girl molest by her father with ten, hundred, thousand times to believe that God is a man. I can't even dare to pray to a father when my own father me.”

“Oh, Yoo –”

“Every night, I would just look up to the sky and ask for God to be a mother to me. A mother that I never had and help me escape from that hellhole.”

“I – I’m sorry...” TOP stuttered.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s seems cheap. Anyway, past is past. I don’t have to remember that again and again.” She walked out and never looked back.

She doesn’t want to recall it anyway.

It’s a sad and trashy depleting memory.

So why should she?