circa Winter 2018
With the way the snow blew in without warning, the number of guests at the gallery dwindled quickly. Soon it was just Soohyun and the gallery attendant on shift, a kind but strict older woman named Hana. After the fifth time Hana glanced between the empty gallery and the chilly outside, her hands crinkling her long slacks, Soohyun pushed himself away from the pamphlets he had been fiddling with to pass time.
Miss Kim, you can go if you like. I’ll close up. Your husband is probably waiting up on you.
There’s a wordless follow up, the knowledge that settles between the two of them. There is no one waiting up on Soohyun.
It took only a few minutes of shallow push and pull for the older woman to pack up her things. She puts up a fight, half-hearted, a puppet show for an audience of two and the snow. It’s to be polite, a hardworking career woman’s falsities before she makes the long drive home. It’s only a small amount of tiresome, but Soohyun finds the smile he returns as they say good bye to each other to be genuine.
As the door shuts behind her, he deposits himself on a bench in the center of the front of the gallery, poised in front of the centerpiece of the exhibit. The Familiar Reflection. He remembered sitting in front of the canvas for hours, fingers stained black and blue and red. There was very little familiar about the brushstrokes staring back at him, but the response had been alarmingly, unsurprisingly positive. He stares for a moment longer when movement to his left distracts him. There’s a girl, small, loitering outside. She’s framed only by the snow and street lights, every other storefront on the block closed.
She looks cold.
He stands without thinking, walking and pushing open the door to the gallery. It’s technically closing time. Miss Kim will forgive him. “Hello,” he pauses, fingers already growing cold, “would you like to come in?”
@snjaein