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Photo #38

"It's strange how you can be desperately in love with someone even when you haven't spoken to or even seen them for years. It's incredible how despite the distance between two people, you'll never stop loving them. That's just how love works, I suppose. You either love them forever or you never loved them to begin with. Love doesn't leave just because the person does." 

— Excerpt from A Book I'll Never Write

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1 January 2019

At this moment, I wanted nothing than to thrash this fucking studio. The desire to drown this place with petroleum, light a match, litter it and watch it burn down right in front of my eyes was overwhelming. I wondered how it felt like to dance with fire. Imagine letting the smoke choked my senses; the tongues of flames licked my skin charred, then slowly engulfed my body. The air: acrid, thin and claustrophobic. Like any second now, my entire being would combust to join the debris.

I opened my eyes and reality set in.

The studio was still here. Untouched and lonely.

I was alive. Unfortunately.

But Mina was gone. 

Everything seemed pointless now. 

It had been three hours since the last time I saw her. We had a fight before she decided to go for a walk to clear her head. It wasn't a small fight, but we definitely had much worse. Besides, I was under the impression that we had sorted things out in the end. Instead of shutting me out, she was responsive when we talked. Or was it a false impression? The only thing absent was her expressed forgiveness. 

Is that why you left me, Mina? For the third time? 

The fried chicken takeout that I ordered perched on the table. Cold and unappetizing. I went from lounging on the sofa bed alone with high hopes in the first hour, laying out dinner excitedly in the second hour, to pacing around the studio wondering what took Mina so long in the third hour. Three hours of waiting, anxiety had long taken over my initial hunger. 

Trying to keep my emotions at bay, which had proven to be more difficult at every passing minute, I grabbed my phone and dialed Mina's number again. For the umpteenth time. Like all my futile attempts previously, it went straight to voice mail. It took every ounce of my energy to keep myself from smashing my phone. 

"Really, Myoui Mina? Is that how you get revenge?!" I screamed into nothingness. 

Give up, Chaeyoung. She doesn't care. 

The devil cackled beside my ear. My hands were sweating so hard while my head throbbed on.

Still a little light-headed, I dashed to the bathroom, splashed cold water onto my face repeatedly, in order to freshen up and think amidst my disoriented mind. As my hands gripped onto the sink for support, I caught my wet reflection from the mirror staring back at me, water dripping down along my jawline. The sound of flowing tap water had never felt this calming before.

"What do I do now?" I muttered to my reflection. 

Find her. 

I straightened up and squared my shoulders, still observing my wary reflection. With a sigh, I grabbed a hanging towel to wipe my face dry. My chest heavy with a made decision. 

I must find Mina. No matter what it takes. 

As I pulled on my parka and seized my bag, the frown on my forehead grew deeper as an abrupt thought struck me. Mina's disappearance seemed fishy and totally 'un-Mina-like'. It was so uncalled for, like she slipped away along with the wind in silence. Given our history, I knew her too well that there would always be a given notice. Like that time she broke up with me, she sent me a broken camera. Like that time when she left for Japan, she gave me a call.