Unfortunate Soul
(self para for obs: Exemplify)
Jiho was never very good at making friends, even when he was a kid. He never put forth any effort to learn proper social skills when he had the chance, and any fragments of social prowess were quickly snuffed out once he was taken into slavery. He never saw the need for making friends. He had everything he needed, and people always had the habit of overcomplicating things.
Yet he was drawn to them, like a moth to a flame, or a vulture to corpses. Why else would someone like him have taken up residence in a city as populated as Sunseong? As actively as he tried to avoid others, his choice of residence was an odd one. He never seemed to acknowledge it, but some of his actions seemed contradictory to his beliefs. He found himself returning to his “doctor” more often than was probably necessary. He never got sick, and his injuries healed themselves faster than he could notice. It was pointless.
He justified half of his visits to restock on sleep pills and painkillers. There was a light drizzle out that morning as he made his way through the empty streets. It was quiet; the city was still waking up. He spotted a few birds flying off from a building as he turned the corner. As he reached the entrance to her clinic, a chill ran up his spine. A drop of water landed right on the back of his neck when he saw the sign.
CLOSED
He had never known her to not be open on time. He shrugged. “She’s probably running late,” he thought to himself. He had other errands to run that morning, so he’d swing back by on his way home.
That was four days ago.
The sun is setting, and the sky is a dim shade of orange. The edges of the clouds burn with a bright yellow tint. The sky looks like it is on fire. He lays face up watching the clouds burn from the roof of a tall building. He’d been up there for hours, thinking. With the city turned upside-down after the news that morning, no one seemed to notice the enormous dark bird fly up there that afternoon. He didn’t really care if anyone saw, anyway. His mind is elsewhere. He can’t forget the vivid details from that morning. He can’t forget her face. He can’t forget any of it. He feels oddly empty. He isn’t sure how to feel. Betrayed? He doesn’t believe for a second that she was the criminal. She was one of the bystanders who witnessed him being attacked by the flyers, and she was the one who dragged him off the streets to tend to his wounds. There’s no way it was her. She was too nice.
He wants to be infuriated with the lynching, but does he have the right to be? They weren’t friends, he never attempted to crack a joke or make smalltalk. Not once in all the times he visited. He would sit patiently and wait for her to tell him that he was in perfect physical condition. She even seemed annoyed with him at times, probably wondering why he kept coming back. Even he didn’t really know, but it was an excuse to see a familiar face every now and then. Now he couldn’t go back there anymore, and it was all their fault. It was all his fault. Why didn’t he do something to help her??
He sits up, and curls into a ball. This isn’t right.
He doesn’t want to be mad; he feels like he doesn’t deserve to be. He never cared about anyone, so why would he start now? Having a friend meant more than just missing someone when they’re gone. But they weren’t friends. So then why is he angry? He can’t remember the last time he’s been angry about anything that doesn’t have to do with himself. It isn’t right; it isn’t natural. Not for him. He had always been desensitized to corpses. Death is just a part of the way things are. There’s no point in fighting it, and he knew that. It was almost ironic. So many who knew Jiho considered him to be an advocate of death, some went so far as to mock him and call him a harbinger. And now, now the poor girl was dead, the same girl he pestered for seemingly no reason. Like a vulture to corpses...
The clouds are burning.
The same thoughts keep running through his head, the same thoughts he always preached to himself. Companions aren’t a necessity. People always overcomplicate things. It was his mistake for forgetting it.
He buries his head deep between his knees, and he starts crying.
Jiho was never very good at making friends.
