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"you have a quaint home."
the man showing me around his cottage laughs in modesty, leading me up the rickety wooden staircase.
"i'm hoping it will be yours soon," he says in a friendly manner. we finally step onto the cramped landing; the floorboards have been recently swept but there are signs of age that not even the strongest disinfectant can remove; i like it though, it adds character. it's a tight squeeze for the two us and he wastes no time in throwing open the door of the room directly opposite.
the musk of time hits me instantly and he lets me step in first: the darkness of my attire contrasts greatly with the cream and rose hues of the small space, currently being used as a guest room. the single french-style window has been unlatched as wide as it will go to let the sweet scent of the country perfume the room. gossamer curtains that shimmer with periwinkle and cream have been drawn back and tied neatly with an old ribbon. the victorian chest of drawers matches the mahogany bed frame and i run my calloused fingertips over it with an approving nod.
"the furniture comes with the room and i'll even throw in the mirror too if you'd like." atop the dresser, a mirror rests against the outdated wallpaper and takes up a majority of the wall space too. the gold frame is crumbling and the glass is stained around the edges but it looks relatively well-taken-care-of nonetheless.
"i have a question."
"sure, what is it?" i can sense the uneasiness in his voice. as far as i am aware, he hasn't had much luck in selling his home and is desperate to move out after the recent death of his beloved. lines from stress have already appeared on his young face as he cards a hand through his dove-grey locks. his plush bottom lip is pulled into his teeth as he watches me nervously.
"how come there's so many flowers?"
he laughs, albeit uncomfortably, and shakes his head.
"don't worry, they don't come with the house. but they're for my fiance, who died recently. he was an angel." his voice tapers off in sadness and i nod. they were gorgeous flowers, but snapdragons made me feel sick.
suddenly, he comes to and the heartache in his eyes fizzles out. he smiles toothily.
"oh i'm so rude! i haven't even offered you anything to eat or drink since you got here! would you like a cup of tea? or do you prefer coffee?"
"tea is fine, thank you."
i cast my gaze one last time over the delicate room, lingering on the crimson flowers beginning to wilt in their vases. one or two bouquets would've been efficient in their purpose of memorial but this man had clearly been devoted to his lover - devoted enough to plant three flowers on the windowsill alone.
a foreign feeling obscures my senses for a moment and i crease my eyebrows as i turn to leave. one could call it guilt but i never felt guilt.
the lonely heart was already making his solemn way downstairs when the sole of my black leather boot connected with the small of his back; every cry of pain was harmonised by the crack of a different bone and i marched after the limp body, stepping over it with mild disgust before turning back down the country road in which i had arrived, leaving the door of the cottage wide open and the slumped body of mr. choi seungcheol in clear view of anyone who dared to pass by.
