minuscule.
ft. @infbyul
she can’t evade the idea that things between them are complicated. there’s a lot of history to be dug up from the cold hard ground. hands present a social status. hands are the second thing you notice when you meet someone.
seol doesn’t like to get her hands dirty. but to burn a body you first need to burst the coffin open, and deal with the rot inside.
so her plan of action is an offer for smoothies at the local diner, which would seem innocent, but ends up getting swallowed with its own fair share of skepticism none the less. she can’t help byul’s precedent of living most of her conscious life as her roommate. maybe, she can admit to herself a part of her had been missing her presence.
maybe, it’s all just one big fluke. it’s not her place to say anyway.
she picks a booth next to a window, and slides enough to catch a good view of who wants to come inside. byul’s end receives the slight curve of little smile, playful in nature. “so, sis.” her fingers trace the top of the menu in front of her, flipping a page in a sign of nonchalance, “how’s life been?”