It was ten years ago when she was sitting next to me without any words coming out. At this bus stop, we ever waited for the one who would drive our journey to another place. Yet the bus never took her. An old woman whom she called halmeoni picked her up and pinched her ear, ‘What a bad girl.’
‘Where do you wanna go?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said while glancing at me.
I saw that the old woman held her hand. Moving her back away, left me alone who had no idea. She was a cold-hearted girl whom I met at a youth camp exactly two months before that day. All along the time, I assumed that we had been friends. She often helped me and narrated myths about the mountain where we had the camp. But I was completely wrong, the camp had finished thus we were no longer.
The words were not enough to say. Her silence meant all that I assumed. Leaving scent, scene, and what kind she is in my memories. I was ready to wave goodbye. Unfortunately, when the bus would bring me, someone hit my head. I turned around and found her. I didn’t even know what she had done and what she thought. She threw me an annoyed stare. I was just confused and let her run away.
***
‘I’m jealous of you.’
Now her eyes meet mine.
‘You’ve another place to go and live when I’m still trapped here. You’ve them who banded by flesh and blood to visit when I just have halmeoni and this town. I was dejected, blaming those situations.’
She goes on, ‘But some people have made me realize that another place doesn’t give a certitude. Perhaps there doesn’t accept someone’s existence.’
With the calm voice of yours, it’s locking my fragile mind. I don’t want to be sure how many of the words spoken from your mouth are true. It is like a tone of despair. I look around while exhaling; feeling the humid air and sweeping the scenic view of the summer sky. The waves and the breeze are whispering, yielding a melodious strain.
‘So, have you stopped wanting to go?’ I ask her.
‘I haven’t. I just thought there’s no an exact time as I’ve no reason to go.’
‘What about visiting a friend? It’s a good reason.’
‘Visiting a friend?’
‘We don’t catch the same feeling. Doesn’t it pain, friend?’
I emphasize at the end of the sentence, pretending to be sad. She laughs while patting my back. She tell me about the clumsy boy she met during the camp. She tells me to not forget that boy, a gadget-addicted boy who was forced to go camping because of his mother. I hear a hint of ridicule in her voice. I laugh even though I am a little embarrassed.
‘So, I just a friend to you?’ She asks, freezing me abruptly.
***
Halmeoni means grandmother
WANDERLUST 