"One flick, the death switch turned off and my woeful life ended just like that."
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BOOK TWO OF DEATH SERIES.
Romping around, his tender lips wreathed in a wide smile-that would touch one's soul like a sweet sense of a light feather-and a voluptuo...
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Years passed—time, an uninvited foe of mine for I had spent them in utter misery of corrupting loneliness—I had been yet wandering in search of my shadow. As being dead myself, I had no work, free from the shackles of the world, and perhaps I had thought, fingers tapping on my chin, oh so I thought that despite the truth that my chapter was over, I had been feeling restless like any other human walking on the streets of Seoul, caged in the fear of not reaching to the office on time, or school or some event or merely reaching home safely without the great trepidation and disquietude of being kidnapped or robbed or throat slit open on the way.
While I had been here on the other side with a prominent feeling of restlessness in my heart, I had seen everyone slowly moving on from the grief as if I had never existed in the first place.
Oh Minhee, ever so unlike me, a woman so robust I had never seen, had undoubtedly cried on my funeral day and as per her prior promised words, dropped out of school, moving away from Seoul to Ilsan to get her mother's treatment performed, working as full time in some convenience store in Ilsan. That's what I had always loved about her; we were like chalk and cheese and she never gave up on life.
Jimin, my mate had finally started to do something productive by enrolling in a café and began to work there with a motive to distract himself from my unfortunate death. Whatever he was doing, it was truly helping him. I practically watched him grow from a clumsy little boy into a full-grown responsible young man although he had become maturer than his age. I felt proud of him.
However, what had caused my heart to ache was when I had got the knowledge of Uncle Grouch, who when came to know about my uncertain death, went queerly mute and refrained from talking to anyone other than his customers from whom he didn't desire to prolong the conversations into unnecessary babbles and his habit of whining or caviling about the mournfully depressing life he had. Perhaps, my decease had helped him realize the importance of being.
Seasons separated without a goodbye, spring blossomed away, making way for the dazzling sun of the summer, and then came monsoon, rain falling from the sky and so time went by. Such was how, along with the moving seasons, the people I once knew, carried on with their life while I had been stuck in the endless loop of time.
On the murky ground of fallen rain-the air ripe with the pleasant, dewy petrichor of the light downpour, I had been walking mindlessly that day, that particular uncanny day when I saw Soa again.
Albeit, I had met her only once almost two years ago from that day, and accountably, we were yet strangers, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic to see her since the last time I had seen her, I was human and later when I was a lost, wandering soul, even if I had desired to talk to her, ask why she had been running miles under the onslaught of the now heavily pouring rain, I had realized she wouldn't be able to see me.
But she had been crying.
Something about that girl crying whenever I found her, stirred up a queer feeling in my heart, a feeling as if I yearned to assist her and so that evening, with the clouded gloom, I had followed her, quick in my steps to not lose her as she had been running, unbeknownst to me.
Her feet stopped and I with ominous dread, had cognized the train tracks on which she stood.
