❝ Does it really matter at all? ❞
(sometimes, she feels as if she’s a shadow– chasing the sun, racing tirelessly against time, a funny, abstract sort of thing.)
“d’you think there’s such thing as fate? d’you think…that maybe, just maybe, everything’s already laid out ahead of us?” her voice breaches the surface of a languid silence, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of distant traffic and the high-pitched whine of a siren. somewhere, someone has their face pressed against their window, eager to catch a glimpse of something; anything. somewhere, someone is thinking, or not thinking at all. she thinks she’s somewhere in the grey zone.
are we talking about romance or free will here?
“eugh.” she crinkles her nose. “is there a third choice?”
“like…dunno, life in general. the people we meet, the places we go…the choices we make. what if it was all pre-determined?”
it takes her a moment to answer because she wants to savor it, this feeling of understanding that blooms into a smile, the weight lifting from her chest.
somewhere, someone leaves–
and with the seasons, takes root again.
(she thinks yejin might just be the sun.)