Two words. Three vowels. Four constenants. Seven letters. It can either cut you open to the core and leave you in ungodly pain or it can free your soul and lift a tremendous weight off you shoulders.
The phrase is: It's over.

JIHYO STOOD IN front of mirror for a thousandth time that evening. She frowned; picking tissues from the dressing table she wiped the sweat from her forehead.

She anxiously glanced at the clock; her boyfriend was already half hour late to pick her up. She threw quick glance at herself in the mirror, and chewed her lip nervously. It was her first time to ware that kind of clothes and she was totally uncomfortable in it. She had spent her whole life wearing shorts and shirts or T-shirts, and wearing skirt was first to her.

She chose to dress like that only to please her sweet, loving boyfriend – who was now exceptionally late for their date. Grabbing her bag and cell, she ran outside. She had waited enough for him.

“Woah, woah. Is that you Jihyo?” her mother squeaked from kitchen as she quickly ran in the living room to get better look of her daughter. “You look beautiful, as if you are a girl,” Rolling her eyes, Jihyo started to look for her shoes.

“I’m going now, Mom. Keep your drama for later,” she then half hugged her mom and ran to the place where she was meeting her boyfriend.