I'm running. My feet are slapping against the pavement and my lungs are struggling for air. As I race past the bright lights from the street vendors, their disapproving skowls knowing no bounds, I look into a reflective surface and spot the man who only paid a fifty still chasing after me, having a harder time running than I do.

The lady who sells "priceless" jewelery stares at me hard. She sells costume jewelery and says it's the real-deal silver, when it's actually just heavily weighed-down cheap metal painted to look silver. Her skin is potmarked and her teeth are crooked. Her knappy black hair is tied into a short ponytail in the back and she always smells like cigarette smoke. 

Among the rest of the other vendors looking at me, why does she bother me so? Because, as she plays around with her tongue inside , not saying a word, the facial expression she has on as she loks at me says it all. "Baek Chan, the e who used to have so much to live for, is now a pig amongst sheep."