She moved like a swan, to the right and then to the left. She swayed her hands slowly, gently as the air gasped the spaced between her body and her moving arms. She was a ballerina, with messy bun hair and beautiful legs. The delicate fingers of hers touched the table and put her trays on it. She pulled out the bundle of her bun, and re-do her hair right in front of me. Her neck was pretty, as pretty as diamond marble on her eyes. She smiled, started to saying something. Her voice was as beautiful as what we usually heard on music box. She was a ballerina, moved lightly and beautifully pretty.
 

“Hoseok, pass the salt to me,” she said.
 

Hoseok nodded, “Here.”
 

“Thank you.”