"No one here would even know that I'm alone. It's quiet as if it's someone that did not exist at all." - Dalchong of CHEEZE
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Her memories came in bits.
Her reason to live was gone.
Her life was falling apart.
She was all alone.
And she did...
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It's sunny and ten degrees outside, but she can care less wearing a pair of black shorts, her legs exposed to the cold. She looks up at the cloudless blue sky, her hands deep in her pockets, letting the cold breeze caresses her face. The thousand nerves under her baby fat cheeks awakened from the chill, mistaken it for the feathery light touches from a particular person's cool fingers. A knee jerk reaction from the person she can't quite place of. She tries her best to remember.
Because nobody cares for her anymore. Son Chaeyoung is already dead since day one. Her heart stops beating.
Yet, she continues to stay at Incheon, waiting and barely holding on.
Her stomach lets out a soft growl, but she doesn't feel the appetite. She hasn't eaten for days. She hasn't done anything at all but keeps herself locked in the comfort of her cozy apartment. Except that she no longer feels its coziness. It's gone. Like her soul being ripped away. Honestly, this is the first time she steps out from the house after days of doing nothing, but laying on the floor feeling as small as possible.
Chaeyoung knows why. It's the voice, her voice, she obeys. She craves for it. She can kill just to listen to that voice again.
Walking down the street, she whispers to the peaceful neighborhood, "I'm out now. Where are you?"
"I'm here," the wind tickles her chin.
Her feet brings her to a promising coffee shop. God heard her prayers.
She pushes the glass door to let herself in. The sound of clinking bells ring in warm welcome, the aroma of coffee invades her nose and she quickly slows down her breathing. It's disgusting. She wants to puke.
"Hey, Chaeyoung! What a pleasant surprise," Chaeyoung identifies a male barista. She's sure he's the one who called out to her as he's the only person she can see. He's wiping cups and saucers, but all actions stop as soon as she entered. Still caught in a slight daze, she racks her brains to recall his name. It must be her friend, a handsome one frankly, but she can't quite recognize who is he. Nevertheless, she wanders to the counter out of courtesy.
"Hi, there," she smiles. Her face muscles strain from the lack of use.
"Are you alright? I haven't seen you around lately, thought you must've moved out," the nameless guy grins, causing Chaeyoung to squirm in guilt. He seems really genuine.
"Nah, I'm not going anywhere. I was just busy," she straight up lied, shaking her head to look convincing. She leans against the counter, observing the menu displaying the many names of coffee. None of it piques her interest.
Amused, the guy laughs, "Do you still need to read our menu? You had them memorized by heart, but hot Americano is the drink you only ever order."
Silently, Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. What is this guy talking about? She's very certain she detests coffee, but she decides to keep quiet when he serves her "her usual".
She reluctantly pays for the cup and chooses a table overlooking the streets. She blames her hands for acting upon themselves, or else she wouldn't have accepted the coffee as she won't taste it at all.
