4004notfound:
“There must’ve been a sale on sake or something, my grandma sent enough to give a small village alcohol poisoning. Figured you could use some, you know in case you want to experience alcohol poisoning before you’re thirty.”
Tunnel Vision ft. @zieuns
Sunday night makes its presence known in two ways: the cold chill that signifies the beginning of the year’s end, and a perfunctory text from Amanda that she’ll be over in half an hour. She takes both into stride with practiced ease: wool sweater around the shoulders and an unpretentious spread of side dishes she’s found in her fridge. An aftereffect of her upbringing is that she’s overprepared to receive any guest, no matter the time. If not her, then who would be?
In any case, she’s long since learned to enjoy these types of moments. Little reminders of the new normalcy; of the life she’s made for herself.
She’s got her hands clasped around a hot mug of tea, mid-sip, when Amanda opens the door. The quiet confidence she exudes as she makes herself at home in Jieun’s apartment, waving around her grandmother’s latest care package with fervor, is old news at this point, but it makes her smile nonetheless.
“You never tell her it’s too much, so she always sends more. Not that I’m complaining,” because Amanda’s grandmother has impeccable taste, for one thing, and also since Amanda is far too generous. “I have some ramen if you want to make some; or tea, if you’re cold.”
Without a response, she makes her a mug anyway; leaves it at the spot Amanda sits at most often. Pulls out two sake cups, too — Amanda’s birthday gift for her circa 2019 — in preparation for a long, warm night. At least it’ll keep the chill at bay; alcohol and good company.
“How is your grandmother, by the way? Your dad?”
These are the questions they rotate through as a matter of course; superficial in sound but sincere in heart. Years of friendship will do that to you: keeping track of all the people they care about, taking no notice of the people they leave out. She doesn’t ask about Amanda’s mom, and Amanda doesn’t ask about hers.
Whether through magic or routine, the fact that the sake cups are filled escapes her notice until she’s got her fingers wrapped around the brim, poised to receive. Subconsciously, she might’ve been taking Amanda up on the poisoning offer, though with her track record it would be wrong to blame her friend.
She smiles, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Cheers!”
