Ditto, True Beauty.

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE      Hwa-Yeon's Perspective
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     There's a broken flowerpot, just under the overhanging roof of the balcony.

A parky draft glided into the pale, glimmering living room. The morning chiffon sky melted into a salt grey, as the sun hid behind the greying clouds that swirled above the horizon. I leant back even further, the frame of the sliding doors dug into my back as I did so.

Lulling my head to the side, my eyes almost forced themselves shut. The overpowering rays of the early sun showered my body, drowsily. With my arms locked around my shins, the city breeze caused my pyjama trousers to flutter gently. Even, transporting the smell of petrichor into the air. The unmistakable perfume of rain, accompanied me within the vast apartment, like the way people light scented candles whilst having a conversation over some dinner.

I was close to falling asleep again. But I battled against the haze, and let the low temperatures keep me conscious.

I found myself having a staring contest with the tainted flowerpot on the balcony again. Fissures meandered across its pearly white vase.

Flittering possibilities generated within my head. How did that happen? I then came to a conclusion and assumed that it must have been the raging storm from the previous night, that seemed as though it would never cease to end.

Being too dozy to hoist myself off the ground, I craned my head back tinily, the crown of my head resting on the door frame too. My fingertips drummed against the surface of my knees, as though they were pressing the keys to a piano, playing a melody that was familiar to the songbirds, that probably gathered on the tree beside the apartment.

That was one thing that mirrored Cheongsando Island. I then wondered if the birds in Seoul travelled from Cheongsando too, that made me feel less or so, alone.

I knew that I should have called Aunt Seung-Wan that morning, for another check-in to see what we were up to, but for some reason, I decided against it. As I have mentioned previously, I wanted to break out of the familiar routine that I had when I lived in Cheongsando. Pathways, determined by fate, always drove me towards a closed off road.

Perhaps I could be soaked into the flux of Seoul life, and that I could start anew.

Though, a heavy notion settled itself into my mind, and I found my chest twinge from the guilt that I felt towards my Aunt. I'll call her later.

Pausing the rhythmic tapping on my knees, with my hands falling towards my sides, my left palm landed on a smooth, plasticky material. It made subtle rustling sounds, the tiny current of the wind causing it to do so. When I drifted my eyes towards it, they were met with the bold letters of GS25. Miniature droplets of rain still patterned across the hefty bag, its contents being the ice-cream from last night. The straps of the bag was still slung around my forearm, the dessert left untouched.

Faintly, recollections of the evening before resurfaced my mind. Almost vividly, the scent of raindrops hitting the metal handrail of the bridge re-entered my nose at the memory. Alongside that, there were also visions of the Seoul citizen that showed me unexpected kindness, and they stayed imprinted within my mind, when I left the apartment.

Transparent umbrellas litter the zebra crossing as citizens commuted, the traffic light signalling for them to go. I didn't cross, however, and stayed on the path that I was on.

Colossal rows of retail stores varied besides the pedestrian footpath, with yellow and amber coloured billboards to promote their companies to citizens and tourists all around. People brushed up against my sides as they hurry towards the haste changing traffic lights, faces worn from their efforts to not let time be the reason why they're late for work.