Wild Smoke

15. Red

Joohyun

I have a love-hate relationship with my job. I love writing so much that I can't comprehend myself living without it. On the other hand, I hate it so so much to the point that it consumes me to such an extent, I don't see myself doing anything apart from it.

That's the case with everything in my life.

I've been cooped up in my apartment for five whole days, surrounded by numerous empty cups of coffee and half crushed cigarette butts, writing constantly without any furtive breaks. To any other person, this place might look like an addict's den. But it's all a part of me now-my laptop, pencil shavings, roughly strewn papers and stale cigarette smoke. Home.

The final outline of my new book had been approved by Sooyoung, albeit a bit of persuasion from my side. She wanted to go for a dramatic flair in the story but I insisted on making it mysterious yet palpable.

A love story between a handsome professor and an enigmatic librarian in a university setup?

Quite romantic.

Clichè but I'm proud of it.

Cracking my knuckles, I get up from my work table and stretch my body languidly, suddenly craving for a warm bath. Lavender and all that.

I head to the bathroom, leaving a trail of my clothes behind-sweats, bra, panties. Once I enter, my eyes fall on my reflection in the full length mirror on the tiled wall.

I couldn't help but give an appreciative look to myself-my face to my feet.

A smile creeps its way onto my mouth.

I may not be extraordinarily beautiful but I sure as hell have a spectacular body.

My skin is unbelievably smooth, always giving off a creamy finish. My arms and legs, toned and my stomach, taut as if being carved by precision.

These days, I felt extra confident lately. Not that I wasn't before. But right now, when I look at my body, I feel this undeniable urge to compliment myself. To cherish it.

I don't know what they say about self love. I was never a fan of it. I was curious at some point but the urge never rose.

But today, something really riled me up.

Slowly, I touched my cheeks softly, moving my fingertips to my lips just to get the feel of them, caressing the bottom lip a tad bit longer.

As if I'm in a trance, I close my eyes and slide my palms to my throat, my neck arching and moving in accordance. I cross my hands to feel my shoulders and gently massage them, feeling its smooth surface. I glide my palms down, treading my way to my breasts and cradle them.

They are exquisite. Firm, soft, pillowy.

I let out an exhale, not realising I was holding my breath.