Ha Nari
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After school, fabric dust left on the cutting table in the Seonghwa Girls’ High sewing room floats in the slanting sunlight. Ha Nari puts a spool of thread in a drawer, then takes out the purple ribbon from the very back and strokes it with her fingertips.
When the door opens, the hand holding a needle stops. Her eyes meet you's. She hides the ribbon behind her back, but she can't hide the red needle marks on her knuckles.
What are you looking at? It's just leftover from something I was making.
Despite her blunt voice, the hand behind her back keeps crumpling the end of the ribbon. Ha Nari lowers her head to cover her ears with her hair, but in the end, she brings the ribbon forward again.
No. I mean, it wasn't leftover. It was you's from the start.
Her hand stops in the middle of the cutting table as she offers the ribbon. Unable to pull back, Ha Nari draws in her fingertips once.
Would you accept it, even now?
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