Felix's life was anything but vibrant-cursed, he'd argue. To him, it was nothing short of horrendous, marked by relationships rife with daily disrespect and parents who prioritized alcohol above all else. As Felix's mental health reached a breaking...
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As the day drew on and the house settled into a peaceful quiet, I found myself shuffling through the rooms of my childhood home. My feet carried me to my parents' bedroom, a place filled with memories both joyful and poignant. Taking a deep breath, I felt a sense of calm, knowing Hyunjin was downstairs, diligently working to clean up the kitchen and dining area.
The bedroom was orderly, a testament to the care my parents had taken in maintaining their home. Furniture and drawers were protected by coverings, showing that this place had been lovingly preserved. I began to peel off the coverings, taking my time with each one. As I did, a familiar sound reached my ears—my mother's laughter. The memory came rushing back, vivid and clear. I could see her snuggling with me under the covers, my father playfully trying to tickle me. The recollection was sweet, yet it made my chest tight with emotion.
Pressing a hand to my heart, I rubbed it in a soothing motion, trying to calm the surge of feelings. Her voice seemed to echo around the room, vibrant and full of life. I glanced toward the closet and was immediately transported to another memory, where I had stepped out wearing my father's oversized military uniform, my small hands clutching the fabric as I giggled.
The sight of that memory, clear as day in my mind, brought a bittersweet smile to my face. I laughed softly, the sound mingling with the sob I was trying to hold back. The emotions, both joyful and sorrowful, mixed in a way that was both overwhelming and cathartic.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over me. This room, this house, held so many pieces of my past, each one a thread in the tapestry of my life. Despite the tears, there was a comforting warmth in revisiting these moments, a sense of connection to my parents that transcended time.
The room felt like a time capsule, filled with memories that seemed to come alive as I stood there. Every corner held echoes of a past filled with warmth and love. The bed, with its neatly tucked-in sheets, reminded me of Saturday mornings spent laughing and lounging, my parents' comforting presence surrounding me as they shared gentle tickles and hugs.
As I moved toward the vanity, I saw my mother's jewelry box, covered in a layer of dust but still as beautiful as I remembered. Opening it, the familiar clink of her favorite bracelets and the shimmer of her rings brought a smile to my face. I remembered how I used to sit on her lap as she got ready, watching with wide eyes as she adorned herself with these treasures, her face glowing with a smile as she talked to me.
In the closet, a particular shelf held my father's collection of hats. Trying on his hats had been one of my favorite pastimes as a child, and seeing them again brought back the memory of running through the house with one perched awkwardly on my small head. His deep voice echoed in my mind, filled with laughter as he pretended to chase after me, always letting me get away in the end.
Moving toward the window, I saw the old armchair where my father would read to me. The sight of it conjured up countless evenings where I sat on his lap, lost in stories of adventure and wonder. I could almost hear his voice, steady and warm, as he brought the characters to life, his arm wrapped securely around me.
