Great Novelist

He looked back at the meaning of what she said. While simultaneous and concurrent interpretations were messing with my head, I looked closely into the eyes of the calculation.

“What's so serious? ”

The best came out of the bathroom and asked. I heard the toilet flush. The calculation answered without hesitation.

“I was talking about literature awards. ”

At best, I nodded and looked outside.

“What are you doing today? It's already dark. Let's have dinner and get some sleep. ”

“Yes. You two can sleep in the big room. I'm going to use the back room with the algebra sister. ”

“Where are the sheets? ”

“I'll get you out now. ”

At best, I used to secure my own bed. He followed behind the mountain for a blanket. Black clothing shakes.

“Good night. ”

“Yes, Mr. Choi, too. ”

I lay on the floor because there was no bed in the big room. The ceiling showed long beams, but they didn't really seem to act as beams. Maybe it's just one of the interiors. If it's an interior, why would she need a beacon in this room?

He slowly recalled his past memories. I didn't remember exactly when she died. It was just a story I heard on the news when I had not been home or stolen after school for some time. Was it a subway station? Was it somebody's phone? Or gossip.

Ro?

There, her death was pouring out and she was repeating that she didn't even leave a note. What I clearly remember was the place. A mountain. I thought it belonged to her. She lives in the mountains. A beam hangs from the ceiling.

“Do you come here often? ”

He asked the best next to him. He flinches.

“I try to come whenever I have time. Why?”

“You're the writer who cooked dinner. It looked familiar back then. ”

He had a full view of the mountain kitchen. By the way, his cooking skills were very good. He ate mushroom miso stew with the contents of a ruined lunch box.

“Anyway, it's quick to notice. ”

The best lifts one foot high, grabs the poppy and pulls it inward. It was stretching.

“Just in case you get bored by yourself. ”

I looked at his toes. I had long toes.

“You don't look like you're going to eat alone. She cares a lot. The reunion, the reunion. Anyway, those guys come here often, even if they don't talk. When you're not writing. ”

“I see.”

They know. It may be unconscious, but I don't want to leave the calculation alone. They're all readers of calculation. You see the beam. You keep looking, and you realize the illusion is getting closer. The footage of him falling from the ceiling

The image is drawn in my head. The crudely-shaped beams bear nothing.

“Growl.”

You hear a breathing sound. The best was fast asleep. My mouth opened slightly. That was the sound of air coming in there. Or an open nostril at all times. His snoring grew louder and louder, and then eventually he got cut off and smaller.

I repeated the increase.

I closed my eyes to sleep. His ears constantly heard information. Knng. The room was quiet for the last time. I opened my eyes to see him, but soon I heard the sound of a deep wind. Since then it's been a continuous snoring.

“Hmmm.”

Though he turned to sleep to make a sound, he never opened his eyes like his usual shameless ways. A sigh pops out. You're done here. He slowly got up. Though I expected him to wake up a little, at best.

was the best. There really seemed to be a variety of sounds in the mountains.

I came out of the living room. The windows were so cool. It feels like the outside air is being shared. It seemed to be cold in winter. It's hard to live, but writing is a good place. She was living in a place like that.

I went into the kitchen to drink water and lit a fire. After adjusting your eyes for a moment, you open the refrigerator. After slashing my neck along the water, I stared at the sink for a moment. I put my hand in my pocket to check the time, but nothing was caught. Yesterday, I was in charge.

I realized I had left my phone at.

You hear a faint snoring in the room. I can't believe I'm hearing this. Now I've heard of respect. I can't even get in there. I slowly walked out of the living room. There was a calculation.

“Are you awake? ”

“Yes.”

She wasn't surprised to see herself coming out of the kitchen. I just stare at you, snoring through the door.

“You snore a lot. Famous.”

“But you put me in the same room without saying a word. ”

“I wanted to go for a night walk with you. ”

He anticipated that he would run out of his room without sleeping. I noticed the costume of the mountains. It's still black. I was closer to going out than pajamas. He also went to bed in his gym clothes, so there was no difference. Calculation walks to the porch

I moved. He followed me again.

“You could have just said that. ”

“The algebra told me to experience the best snoring. ”

“That's too much.”

The wind blows when you come out. The section of the mountain you see in the courtyard just comes to a black mass. It's so dark, I can't see anything. As soon as she left, she opened the cabinet in the corner of the courtyard and handed over the flashlight. It was my first time climbing mountains at night.

“Isn't it dangerous? You said snakes come out.”

“It's okay. I know a way around snakes. ”

The two of them left the house and slowly began to climb the mountain. The calculation strikes the ground with a long stick. Relying on one light to travel the path was more tense than I thought, and it required strength. No matter what comes out of the dark across the street,

I wasn't sure I could win. Is this how you climb mountains at night to feel? The sound of footsteps and breathing. Aside from that, the mountain is still. Like she said, I didn't hear a variety of sounds. It was full of human voices. because he came in. They're strangers.

It's not to be wary of yourself.

As I was walking, I heard the voice of the mountain in front of me.

“I read the article. River water.”

Her voice echoes as she walks in the dark.

“You wrote well. ”

“Thank you."

I thank her for her compliments. Tak, Tak. You hear the sound of a tree hitting the ground. It was a constant beat.

“Have you ever drowned? ”

There was.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever died? ”

I hesitated for a moment to answer. You hear something snapping on your feet.

“Do I look like a ghost? ”

I asked her what I heard one day. She replied without even looking back.

“No.”

It's a short speech. It disappears into the air faster in the dark.

“So you're a ghost and you're writing. Funny thing.”

Quite stabbed.

“Right. Haha. That's funny."

“I don't believe in ghosts. ”

“Why?”

“After death, there should be nothing. ”

That's how I die. He looked at the hand with the flashlight. I wrote a lot after I died with this hand. I read a lot of articles

“How can you write something like that? ”

He replied, looking only at the way the light shines.

“What kind of writing would that be? ”

“Your death. ”

He held his breath a little. Because her thin voice was faint.

“How was the death? ”

The answer never came back. Along the way she walked, he followed silently. The darker you go inside, the darker it gets. Where are we going? Where are they arriving? I asked later and looked back for a moment. It was all black. It resembled her.

“Why didn't I write it? ”

The question I spent time with was not the answer, but the question. He replied, looking down at his feet again. You see the feet crossing in a rush. I felt out of breath and out of breath.

“You're not a coincidence. ”

It's just a coincidence. Only you can write about it after experiencing death. I tried to be such a writer. I really hoped it would be.

“I see.”

It's a short answer. I don't see the emotion in the words that passed me by. It was because I was nervous under my feet. He could only imagine her face, looking at the darkness. She was a horse.

“Did you read my article? ”

“Yes.”

“How was it?”

You hear a crack. You light up the branch. You feel the feel of it through your sole like a snake.

“Ideal, blurry and subtle. I got a little excited. It was like being saved. ”

That's what she wrote.

“even though the subject is death. ”

That's the way she looked at death. I pretended I had nothing and decorated it a lot. She's the one who's leaning against death saying there's nothing.

“My writings didn't resonate with you. ”

Darkness speaks. A flashlight flickers forward. Her legs were definitely in front of her.

"That's what it sounds like. ”

“Maybe I was stabbed for nothing. ”

Calculation is closed. And I kept walking. As I walked silently, I lost my sense of time again. I don't know how long I've been walking. I don't even know where I'm walking. It was a little familiar though. The cries of the deafening crow resound in the mountains.

“I admire you. ”

After a long time, I was tired of the voice.

“What's the point? ”

“I poured it all out. Isn't that great? You can write until you do. Usually you leave the pen with a sense of humor. For a very trivial reason, if you think about it later. ”

Writing is cruel. If I run out, I can't use it anymore. But what was more cruel was the reality. Many writers stop writing without ever depleting it for a number of reasons. Leave the paragraph with a sense of refinement. I didn't win by accident.

“I want to be. ”

Calculation said.

“I want to pour it all out like that. It's okay to be empty, so I want all my writing to be taken away. I wish my writing had lasted longer than mine. ”

She stops walking. He also stopped. I thought I'd arrived somewhere and shined a light. Nowhere. I just stopped in the middle of the road. There is a path beyond the mountain's shoulders and a path behind him.

“Won't you go any further? ”

She didn't answer. He raises his hand and looks at her. Ankles, waist, chest, neck, and face. She reveals herself.

“Not until you came along. ”

End and Start (5) End

lim Han-baek