[WATTPAD FEATURED]
Han Ju Ho is content with life. Or that's what he likes to think. A roadside bakery and his golden retriever, Marble keeps his life bustling with activities. The only menace for him is keeping the wind of Jeju in check. As in, mak...
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THE distance from the near-by funeral hall to Ju Ho's bakery was pretty long. He had not really realised when and why he had chosen to walk such a long distance without any prior experience. Maybe, because Han Ju Ho was battling with different emotions and couldn't find the rationality to get a rented car.
The rough texture of the uncleaned pavement made his old black boots squeak against his surface. The storm of the day before had made trees part with most of their leaves which lied right on the surface. He could see a cleaner sweeping the pavement in the periphery.
The black coat hung on his shoulders, not complimenting his body's contours. It didn't look like it had been tailored for him. Ju Ho couldn't understand how the coat was not fitting him properly. He had definitely lost a visible amount of weight, considering how loosely it was fitting him. He was thinking about making a new one because of how tight it was, even a few months ago.
A cloud of the distinctive smell of the funeral hall's incense sticks, still loomed around him. He could feel its imprint on him as if his inner conscience was asking him whether he was capable of doing his responsibility properly. Mrs. Hong had been dear to him. Not just as a human being he was partly taking care of secretly but also someone he knew personally to some extent.
He was feeling disheartened because he had been particularly attentive towards the elderly lady. Maybe, he had even grown fond of her smile. She had been kind to him, afterall. He had always been a cheerful newspaper boy to her.
Cheerful.
Whas he really someone who could use that adjective? That was highly debatable. To himself, he was nothing but a rotten apple who had been painted with realistic hues of red from the outside.
Maybe it was the same for Mrs. Hong too. It was hard to see through her without knowing how her personal life actually was. She was always in high spirits, making sure to look out for everyone. How many knew about her son who had lost his life in the battlefield and had also sacrificed another back at home, in the process too?
It must have had crushed her heart and she had tried her best to cope with that. The memories must have been painful for her and questions about why she had to face such a situation would have been a part of her life. Yet, she had battled with life for decades, ultimately succumbing to health issues.
He crushed the white chrysanthemum that was in the grasp of his hand, with all his force. That was the only way he could express his remorse. To him, she was a strong woman who lived even though she had no one to hold close. It was especially painful for him to see her demise because Mrs. Hong used to remark often about how similar he looked as compared to her deceased son.
