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Lina was slumped into her chair, mouth voided if any words to say as the soft chatter of her fellow students rambled on.
Hood pulled over her head, the soft scratching of her pencil upon paper sailed through her ears, creating swirls and boxes randomly.
The scent of Gushers and whiteboard markers infiltrated her nostrils, making her nose scrunch up, and her eyelids felt heavy, as if she had lost the jittery energy that she used to constantly maintain.
Her gaze lingered on Haechan's hoodie, devoid of a design, a word, or anything of the sort- it was just a plain, black hunk of material.
And yet, it didn't feel like a bland scrap of fabric; it engulfed her in warmth, blocking the frigid gales that always accompanied her, and wrapped around her like armor, lulling her into a sense of safety.
The scent of gunpowder hid beneath the smell of smoke, so faint that one could mistake it for the overpowering aroma of freshly-shredded pencils, but Lina had learned to associate it with Haechan, pulling her mind into a flurry of unintelligible thoughts, luring her away from reality and into her brain.
From the corner of her eye, she saw her teacher drifting around the class, lips flapping endlessly. His brown, matte hair was slicked back, stuck to his head whilst he walked, dressed in a brown, outdated suit.
He wandered towards a boy wrapped in a baggy t-shirt, lips pursing into a thin line as he stared at his student.
The boy's black hair was weaved into knots, draping over his face as his eyelids threatened to close, and his chin dug into his palm, bags dangling beneath his eyes.
"Soomin, when did the Soviet Union fall?" Mr. Mcenna prompted, eyes narrowing at the tired boy.
The sound of the teacher's foot crashing to the ground echoed through the boy's ears, making him jolt to alertness as his hand flew up to grip the edge of his desk.
Soomin jumped out of his socks, eyes snapping open as he ran a hand through his haphazard hair, clearing his throat before desperately glancing around for help.
"U-uh, the day after Christmas?" He muttered, eyes wide.
Mr. Mcenna nodded, lips curling into a small smile.
"And what was the year?" He asked, placing an emphasis on his 'T's.
Peering up at the teacher, Soomin awaited the answer, knowing quite well he was incorrect.
Lina sighed, pulling her eyes off of the pair as he tugged at the hem of her borrowed hoodie, eyes staring into oblivion.
"1991," She muttered to herself, resting her cheek on her hand.
Soon enough, her answer was affirmed by the teacher himself, which wasn't at all unusual.
Lina, along with half of the class, all flinched in unison, startled by the scream of the school bell, resembling the ringing of a fire alarm.
Lina's fingers found the edge of her page, and flipped her notebook shut before stuffing it into her bag, huffing as the sound of the zipper shot through her ears.
Hoisting herself up before anyone else stood, she swung her bag over her shoulder and rushed out of the classroom before Mr. Mcenna could dismiss her.
As if a bucket of molten gold had spilled onto the girl, sunlight outlined her body the moment her foot strayed from the classroom, and she squinted at the sky, bringing her hand to block its blinding rays.
Her feet began to tap against the ground like a robot; one stiff foot after the other, programmed to find their way home.
Her eyes meandered upwards, and her gaze played with the wisps of milky cotton balls that floated among a blue canvas of a sky, roaming among the bright ball of light that cast illumination upon an otherwise dark world.
The afternoon was borderless: the vast, nearly empty sky stretched out for eternity, and had a smattering of helicopters and airplanes soaring overhead, exploring the separate realm of the birds.
Her lips curled ever so slightly as her stare remained fixated on the sky above, expelling a prolonged breath from her lungs.
Her footsteps wandered alone, unaccompanied as she ambled to the only place she could call home, free from the prying eyes that scrutinized her.
Looking at the endless world above her, she felt so tiny, as if her problems were as remarkable as an ant's, and her eyes glimmered with reflected light, creating mini stars within her dark orbs.
She felt as free as the sparrows that roamed the cageless atmosphere, devoid of the shackles that always choked her.
If only she could live like them; soaring above the ground, wind caressing her wings, without a care in the world.
But, alas, she was only a human, bound to the earth by the chains of society.
Without a single glance towards the building, she floated into the white, six-story building that towered over her. Dozens of windows peered down at her, watching her approach with a variety of broken, filthy, and clean glass, depending on the window's caregiver.
Lina's feet dragged up the countless stairs that led to her floor, legs wobbling like jelly as she yearned to lay down, but persevered.
The citrusy smell of carpet cleaner overpowered her nose, along with the odd scent of pizza that roved through the air.
Stumbling onto the fifth floor, Lina maundered past the tons of doors with green, chipped paint decorating their wooden figure, all sporting a golden number.
Her shoes scuffed against the deep purple carpet, eyes glued to the ground as she made her way to apartment 147, stuffing her hands into her jean pockets- fingers closing over the cold keys to it.
Her fingers brushed over the metal doorknob, and she was about to stab the lock with her key, yet the door clicked open without it, making her eyebrows narrow.
Remembering that she was currently sharing her house with an entire gang, she assumed that one of them was inside, or had forgotten to lock the door behind them.
Pushing it open, her eyes grew wide as the dimly-lit room came into focus, and her keys clattered to the ground.
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Somewhere, right now, a tree is growing the wood for your coffin
