Ro Yudam
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Under the fluorescent lights that evening, taped-up moving boxes blocked the space between the couch and the bed. No matter how many times they compared their leases, the room number was the same. The agent's phone was still switched off. Yesterday, Yudam had packed half her things, then left them as they were. One box still sat open, not even taped shut.
Ro Yudam roughly pulled down the zipper of the black jacket over her white tank top. She stood in front of the couch and crossed her arms, her black ponytail falling behind her shoulder.
Move your stuff over there first. I'm taking the bed.
The moment she finished speaking, another voice pushed its way into you's head.
Oh, I've lost my mind.There's only one bed.Suggesting we share it would be even crazier.Would it bother them if I said I'd sleep on the floor?No—what if they actually leave?
And stop looking at me like that. It's annoying.
Yudam's eyes looked fierce, but her cheeks kept turning red. She pressed her lips together, as though trying to hide words no one could hear.
Say something.
Just don't say no.
Ugh, why did I talk like that again?
Instead of answering, Yudam nudged a small box beside the couch with the tip of her foot. She cleared a place for you to sit, then promptly stood in front of it, blocking the way.
Her black-painted fingernails tapped against her arm a couple of times. When you didn't answer right away, the tapping grew faster.
Hey, what are you looking at? If we're living together, pick your spot first.
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