The news and television shows in general always made it seem like spring was the height of the year, but even though it was spring now, it didn’t really feel that way.  The flowers weren’t in full bloom, and their colors weren’t as vivid as I expected them to be. The grasses and leaves weren’t in their greenest either. That was understandable though, because it was always in the first days of spring that those things happened. Everything would be beautiful as the remnants of winter would be accompanied by the inception of spring.

But where was I during those days? I wasn’t really sure. The past year was very vague, but I was probably sulking, wondering what was happening and why life happened.

I was trying to keep the good vibes in me and not let them go so easily. For one, Seri came back into my life and our connection was renewed, it was even safe to say that we got better.

She sort of hated her mother, blamed her for everything bad that happened in her life. Seri said her mother was the reason why her sister ran away.

At first, I didn’t think that one could hate his parents so easily. Hate was a strong word. But then I realized I was in a similar situation, except I didn’t hate my father. I just didn’t like him. I didn’t hate him, but I’d just choose my mother over him any day. My logic was broken, because I thought I wouldn’t have to face my father if mom was here, and was that agreeable?

I felt light, and maybe it had to do with the fact that my newly brown hair was cut up to the back of my neck.

Seri actually spent the night over at my house and she insisted on watching movies. We stayed up late as we ended up talking more than we intended to (Seri shared more than I did, of course), resulting to me waking up at ten in the morning.

That was why I was walking to school now that the spring sun was overhead and while other students were on their break.

I wore a button-up long sleeve and a pair of faded jeans because Seri suggested the outfit matched with my hair. Her fashion sense was similar to my sister. Seri was actually similar to my sister in so many ways, one of them being that she was always the one who initiated talks, and it felt like having my sister close to me. If the marriage between her mother and my father would happen, I would be fine with having her as a sibling.

I hoisted my shoulder bag up, and I flinched at a hand’s grip on my wrist.

“Haneul,” the name was just a surprised draw of breath, unprepared and unexpected. The hand turned me around and I yet again held on to my bag, a