under the freezing sky
BY jaewon chang
I stand still outside 388 simin daero, under the freezing sky, and like any grandson would, I recalled my halmoni's image: the yellow scarf that went well with her pallid fingers. Moments when she would use all of her strength to hand me a bill. But the building is no longer a hospital in the streets of pyeongchon. Standing beside her bed, like any grandson would, soaking where her head used to be. Recalling when she would lift herself up, to get a clearer view of her sonja. But her bed is no longer occupied. Watching the picture on the wall, sprigs of petunia scrape against her dress. The image of empty soju bottles hinting my drunk father. I wish I could recall more, but the palm sized photos follow the path of snowflakes, like a fairy without wings.