We are impossible...[CHAENNIE]

Our little world

I will believe in love. From now on and always I will believe that it is possible to meet a person whom you will love for the rest of your life and who will love you. And this is not self-deception

Jisoo's POV

-I'm calling to remind you that tomorrow you have a meeting with fans at the largest bookstore in the city.- Kang's voice from the phone sounded stern but respectful.- I'll pick you up at nine o'clock, Miss Kim, be ready by then.

-Okay, Taun. Thanks for the reminder.

I hang up the phone and turn up the volume on the TV, which I turned down earlier, answering the call of my literary agent and part-time driver. Kang and I were not friends, we had known each other recently, and he communicated with me very respectfully due to his age and status. I did allow myself to address him by his first name, but he didn't seem to mind. A few months ago, I returned from the States where I graduated, back to Korea, in America I negotiated with publishers myself and independently arranged meetings with then-small fans. When I returned to my homeland, I decided that a literary agent would not hurt me, so I soon found Taun. He satisfied all my requirements, was neat and responsible, and also respected my desire to be independent and did not allow himself too much.

On a screen with a fairly large diagonal, I have already reviewed the new "Terminator" for the third time, compared to the previous ones, I liked this part the most, modern special effects were able to turn my head. The first time I went to the cinema with my father, dad couldn't see the subtitles, so I quietly read them in his ear. Afterward, when we were eating buns baked by mom in the kitchen at home, he made jokes, and I still couldn't stop laughing. Even now, remembering this, I smile and feel great love for my family, in which love and peace have always reigned.

The movie ended, the credits rolled across the screen, and I turned off the TV. I didn't want to sleep yet, but my appetite woke up, but there was no desire to cook, so I decided to arrange food delivery. I don't know why, but I loved talking on the phone in the kitchen, this room gave me confidence, so I went there, selected a few dishes on the website of one of the nearest restaurants so that they would take me faster, and dialed the number. There was a girl on the other end of the line with a low voice, almost like a guy's, and I dictate the order and address to her, after which she informs me that the food will be delivered to me in an hour. I hang up the phone and sigh that it's quite a long time, but everything is better than cooking by myself or getting dressed and going on my own. Especially with my legs and the elevator not working.

In orthoses, I wandered around the apartment, waiting for delivery, and here there was a place to roam: a kitchen-dining room, a large living room, three bedrooms and two bathrooms. In fact, that's not why I chose it, the apartment was in a good area and close to the center, and there was enough money accumulated, and even my parents helped. I have already managed to put everything in its place, make it more cozy, sometimes my older brother and sister came to me to do what I could not because of my health. Of course, it was inconvenient for me to ask them, I had been trying for so long to be treated as an equal, but to hang the same curtains would have cost me a fall and an even greater deterioration.

I didn't use crutches at home, I just held on to the pieces of furniture that came across, but it wasn't possible in the open space of the street. I would have given a lot more not to use orthoses, although it helped me when walking, but I understood that I looked pathetic from the outside. Nevertheless, every six months another doctor shook his head and said that I would never be able to walk, so, Jisoo, you have to accept it.

My sore legs took me to one of the bedrooms where I was huddled: a perfectly made bed, books arranged alphabetically on a large shelf, but the table is littered with a bunch of papers with notes, drafts, printouts, even a few dirty coffee mugs flicker in the dim light with brown spots on the rim. I should wash it. On one of the shelves of the bookcase there is a cardboard cup with a lid and the name "Jisoo" printed with a marker. As a schoolgirl, I kept it, like a reminder of the subject of sighing, I will have to look into that coffee shop again, there is not enough time, as always.