dark-green sneakers

myself

August 12, 1997.

Began the week of rains. On the street was unbearable slush and dirt. The thermometer's thermometer dropped to +14. Because of bad weather, Jisung's parents were at home, and it aggravated the situation. There was no more silence. She hid, because to attack the open, when adults near, it is impossible. I had to listen to the music all the time, just not to hear the sound of the TV and a knock of the dishes from the first floor.

There was no feelings. They dissolved in the rain, flew up with the wind, frightened thunderstorms and disappeared. A lonely teenager body lay on the bed and thought about the day, in which Han was located.

And the day was today a more drooping. The trees tilt their branches down, tired of rain stories, and the grass on the contrary rose and asked to tell about those places where she could not. The lead sky gave up all his weight and ordered to digest, in order not to hit his head about his problem. Birds are not visible and not heard. They hid the minks, sit in the circle of their family. Here the dad-bird flew out, lifting a rainwater from the ground, mother flew behind him. And also the calamus, flew inside the warm, homely hump. Not visible more than life in this day.

And the strength to live from Jisung not. He thought over his decision, weighed everything for and against. And the conclusion was one. He recalled those days that they ran, like a cat, which dropped a pot from the windowsill. He is seventeen years old, but there is no happiness. He did not even hold him in his hands, did not see a glimpse, did not feel the smell - nothing. And so I wanted parents to be proud of, in school, they praised, and a loved one, kissing his forehead, said that he was well done. And after a long hug and sleepless nights, there is a wind towards the wind, swim in the sea and not be afraid to drown in the rain. But there is nothing to do and hug with no one.

Run towards the wind - scary. To swim in the sea only from problems, but it's still not afraid of rain.

Slap, he raised his hand up and, examined healed scars, began to be proud of. What nevertheless he decided. Jisung regrets only cypress and personal diary. They will remain alone. No one will visit the Mwung De, and the Mr. Poncho page will no longer open. He, lying on the bed, suddenly remembered Minho smile. What is her beautiful she is. He remembered his smell of his cigarettes and his black sneakers. They were the only at school who wore sneakers. Jisung had dark green, and Minho blacks. Sometimes Han thought it was fate. At least someone will say that it is nonsense, but for Jisung it was important. They seemed to have a double shoe, although he did not dare to dream of such. He will be sorry for him, because he will see him not soon, after eighty years, and maybe before. After all, there is an afterlife. Jisung believed in him and believed that only there would find friends.

The rain was laughing on the glass when the handle adds the last words of Jisung. He wrote two sheets: one for relatives, the second for Minho. Collected a backpack. I threw a player, headphones, diary and two letters. More rope. And, saying goodbye forever, left the house for the first time free.

First he needed to say goodbye to his favourite cypress Mwung DE. Walking on the puddles, he for the first time allowed himself to wet the sneakers, although before Berg. Music that played in the headphones was an addition to the atmosphere, Han never felt like that. So good.

He quickly came to the place. The rain continued to pour, Jisung was already completely wet.

- Hello, Mwung de. Understand me, it happens, forgive me. I will finally find freedom, like that small drop of dew. It will be easier for me there. You do not worry, everything will be fine! I grow up with a new cypress next to you. Already the evening. I'll go. Soon we will meet, and I can understand that you will talk to me.