1448 Hours

Seulgi was a bit reckless. She often made choices on impulse and she was known to never run out of a supply of sarcasm. Sometimes it was insulting, but it could light up a room.

Seulgi was also annoying. She liked listening to music blasting on speakers and she loved it when it shook her to the bone, especially when she painted, and she painted almost every day. As long as it made Seulgi satisfied, everything was okay to her. That was probably why she only had one friend and a handful of flings. Seulgi was terrible at relationships. She was almost a douchebag.

Wendy, on the other hand, was very logical. More often than not, she followed her mind. Her heart got lost more than she could afford. Everyone knew if something didn’t fit Wendy’s rubric of perfect, she wouldn’t tolerate it. Everything in her life ran smoothly, for the most part.

Wendy, however, also got annoyed very easily. Music, to her, was something of another dimension. Music should be easy on the ears and smooth, she thought. Especially when she wrote or analyzed music, and she did that almost every day. Wendy wanted to make others feel something with her music. As long as she could make others happy, everything was okay. That was probably why she only had one friend and not a single relationship. Wendy was a little too nice for her own good sometimes, so people barely took her seriously.

Seulgi took a lot of pride in her art and likewise, Wendy took a lot of pride in her music. They grew up with strong spirits for their field of arts. It wasn’t a surprise that it’s what they took up in college. Like any other art student, they were souls that couldn’t be tamed by parents who wanted them to take law, or medicine, or those courses. Their eyes would burn with an energy when it came to their respective arts. No one could contain them.

It was unfortunate that all the music practice rooms were on the left sides of their hallways in their college’s art building; they were right across the visual arts rooms. It was unlucky Wendy’s assigned practice room was right across from Seulgi’s art room.

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“What the hell is this?” Seulgi looked at the painting resting on the easel before her. Dissatisfaction was extremely evident in her eyes. She stood up from the stool she was sitting on, picked up the painting she ‘ruined’ with an awkward contrast of shades of reds and purples, and put it in the corner of the room she spent most of her hours in.

“That was a disappointing one,” Seulgi sighed as she picked up a new canvas from the huge shelves near the door. She felt drained of energy as she put the blank canvas on the easel. (There was probably coffee running in her veins at this point. She wouldn’t be very surprised if there was).

“Back to the drawing board,” she said as she sat back down on the stool, picked up a slightly cracked pencil from the ledge of the easel, and began to sketch. A smile appeared on her face as she felt the beat of the song blasting through her speakers, just (almost) two meters away from her.

It was just another day.

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Wendy was carrying at least five instruments and her huge backpack as she walked down the hall of her new college, searching for her new practice room.

“Room 77…” she mumbled as she stood in front of its door. She lay down her saxophone case and got her keys out. With the overflowing of excitement for a new experience, Wendy ended up fumbling with the keys. After mentally cursing a couple times, she managed to open the door. Wendy walked in and laid all her instruments by the door. After she closed it, she examined the room carefully. It was filled with a lot of basic equipment for all types of musicians. That was a lot. (It was also a lot to organize). Wendy genuinely felt impressed, she wouldn’t have to go to the music store anytime soon.

A smile dawned Wendy’s face as her eyes landed on the upright-grand piano and a drum set, side-by-side, against the wall with two windows, opposite the wall with the door. She paid a lot of extra money to have those come with the room. The room itself was a lot of money.

“It’s much cleaner than Canada,” Wendy said to herself, once she realized how clean it was. Not a single stain rested on the white walls, all equipment was laid atop of drawers where they were soon to be put away, and the small coffee table, which was in front of a couch that was against the wall with the door, didn’t have a single trace of dus