╰┈➤ "Cᴏɴɢʀᴀɢᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs! Yᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ sᴜʙsᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ ᴏғ ᴅᴀɪʟʏ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬." ⌫
𝐈 𝐍 𝐖 𝐇 𝐈 𝐂 𝐇, a primary school teacher is moved to a high school with the lack of staff. From teaching tiny five year olds to dealing with young ad...
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" 우리가 지난 길이 별자리처럼 나와 너 그 길을 따라서 "
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The word tension must've been a joke before today.
There was supposed to be an afterparty for everyone that was involved in the play right after, it but was clear at least two people would be absent from it. Neither of them returned home right after, thinking the other was occupying the space. On the opposite sides of the block, walking in circles without ever meeting each other. Y/n couldn't feel the wind nipping at her nor the snow seeping into her sneakers. Mind running at unseen speeds, but was never as blank as it was today. Everything felt like a bad fever dream.
It was as if she was still under the scorching stage lights, staring at the indigo skies that unfolded before her. The music still echoed in her ears in a cruel cacophony along with her raging thoughts.
Street lamps. Icy snow mixed with dirt that thawed away day by day. Parked cars. She scanned everything around her in poor hopes that it would distract her poor mind and her lips that still tingled as though it would burst.
...What was the most mature way to deal with this sort of situation?
House. Another house. Then another. Mailbox. Fence. Manhole. Woman. —Woman?
A few yards away, a lady around her height was staring off into the distance while sitting on a bench. Y/n brushed off the fleeting thought and decided to keep walking on a debate between doing so and turning back. But with every step grew the uneasiness. She took a quick breath in and slowly exhaled, telling herself she was just on her toes because of what just happened. Agh— that just made it worse!
She finally passed the woman. A subconscious sigh of relief left her lips in a foggy white breath. Mid February was still cold, but the days were growing longer. Trees. Grass poking through the snow. Road sign. Footsteps.
A hand on her shoulder.
"...Y/n?"
That voice. Oh, that voice. That voice that haunted every corner of her room for the last mid twenty years of living. Soaking into every action of the day, every thought that crossed her mind. It took at least a gallon of tears and years, years of praying, begging, hoping for any sort of relief to have finally pushed everything to the back of her mind. That voice. That voice which became the flat and meaningless lines that circled all around her. All while knowing she could step over them any time, her feet glued in one place.
