#au|re;con

       He isn’t usually so careless. Lack of sleep catches up to everyone though. It doesn’t matter how much they hate the thought of laying dead still for a few hours. It didn’t matter how much of a waste of time Siyang thought it was. The human body doesn’t let determination override its basic needs. But he still fights the need to sleep every day.

       He accidentally tips the cup as he hands it over and… Thank you, coffee house employee. Thank you for a lid that isn’t even properly snapped closed. It must be such a hard job to add a little more pressure before handing over scalding drinks. They are truly overworked heroes. And Siyang conveniently ignores the fact he almost dropped the cup in his tired daze anyway.

       “What the-?” He hears some of the sloshed liquid hit the ground and looks down. But Jungah’s reaction brings his attention back to her in an instant. And he almost forgets to react. Almost. But he does. It’s what any normal caring person would’ve done. “Shit. Are you fuckin’ kidding me… Are you okay?” Standard question. He’s still holding both coffee cups as he frowns. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell happened. Cheap ass lids can’t even…”

         The repercussions of a jaded past entangled with a blurred present veiled in a night of forced contemplation are these: hazed mind, jittery hands, headache and the lack of concentration. The occurrence started way back then, yet with each passing weeks it seems to revisit her like an old friend trying to make up for lost time, while there is Jungah, unwilling to embrace all of these. The first few episodes, she could tolerate, but it’s taking a toll on her well-being right now – and most especially, it’s taking a toll on her work.

         Damn. Concentration fleets in and out, distraction stealing her away in the simplest stimuli such as the sound of grounding coffee beans, or the gentle splash of hot water pouring down the cup, or of the hushed conversations that converts to mindless whispers in her head. Damn. Everything is distracting. Why?

         Walking carelessly, the goal is to finish the task, to hand the coffee and go back behind the counter, get another, and deliver onto the table – same, repetitive chore throughout the day and it’s easy. Very easy. But complications arises at an unexpected moment. Distraction, here it is. Or maybe a jolt back to reality. The splash of liquid and the smoke of its heat paired with the raised volume of one’s voice are enough to awaken her, quickly evading the spilling hot coffee to burn her skin, a swift reflex, before a shocked expression grows on her face. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry!” A fast response of apologetic bows prevents her from seeing the man’s face until he speaks again and his voice registers.

“I beg to differ.”

The two of them are sitting atop a high building as the sun sets right in front of them. Spending time together like that has become a habit ever since they met on the very spot by coincidence and became friends.

The sun draws an orange hue across the horizon and paints the city in warm colours right before it is drowned in darkness, in grey and the coldness of the night. There is something deeply melancholic about the scenery. Few birds fly across the sky in the distance and her blue eyes follow their trails as she slowly catches her own thoughts.

Mirae feels heavy in her chair when the warmth of the sun slowly fades.

“We live in a country that still upholds capital punishment. Tell me, how much can a dead person improve exactly?”

It is an absurd concept to her. Punishments – especially those on higher levels – are to build an example so that ordinary citizens like them would not dare to commit a crime.

          It takes just one split of a second, in that very thin and invincible line between subconscious and cognizance, for a thought to seep through, and even passing through her lips with the lack of filtration. Perhaps this is what happens when the mind wanders and fleets along the momentary bliss the high building provided. Yet this isn’t the first time this has happened to Jungah. 

          When Mirae speaks, realization hits her – Jungah is clearly confounded with the thought she herself had blurted out. It doesn’t makes sense at all, what Jungah has said, and understandably that is how Mirae would react. Yet it invited again her apprehensions – it is times like this when she feels a rift inside of her. It seems as though there is some entity hiding beneath her – a being far from who she is. And it is dark, oh so dark, as dark as the idea she had just muttered. And truth be told, it terrifies her. It’s one of the reasons why she isn’t keen on regaining her memories. She’s afraid of it. Of what kind of person she truly is prior to the accident.

          If she has to place a cement on that thin crack that separates her past and present, then she would.

          “That’s true.” Odd as it may seem to jump from one side to another, Jungah makes no effort to defend the statement she had blurted out of nowhere. “They’re dead. Death is the end for them. They can benefit nothing from it.” Her eyes hovers to the sky, watching the fast transition of colors overhead. “But the one who punishes, the ones who causes their demise, of course. Don’t you think it has some sort of benefit to them? To be able to punish people without fear, it takes a lot of guts, and perhaps, even their humanity, to do something like that.” Improvement in the sense that they feel powerful, they feel superior to the punished ones.

            Another slip. Jungah hisses upon its awareness.

          “I think I’m having weird thoughts again, Mirae.”

          The air feels heavy as she inhales the early night breeze. The heaviness made her body melt on the chair, closing her eyes for a moment.

          Whenever the demanding hours of the coffee shop pauses, a good stretch of leisure is gifted to the staff. It finds them mostly at the back of the counter, seated in a semi-circle fashion with a small table filled with fruit juices and snacks and a varied topic of conversations in between. This pause lasts for a good few minutes, yet it seems that today is one of those rare days when they get additional minutes into their conversations with the lack of customers coming.

          It’s a working day, on the dead hours of the afternoon. A Tuesday, if the day matters.

          The current conversation whirls around teenage years. Perhaps the new part-time employee, the current occupant of the hot seat, paved way for such topic to be discussed. And it’s a pleasurable exchange to hear – the four of them swap chuckles turned to vulgar laughter with their own silly tales. Jungah sits at the farthest left, mouth stretched in a smile as the only thing she could offer are responses to their stories. Nothing more.

          It dreads her to be next in the hot seat, for there’s nothing she could share. Her memory goes as far as the three past years and these memories created by mere tell-tale of her family that never sparked familiarity in her mind. But they are memories she’d try to ingrain and cement in her brain. However there are only a few, and mostly uninteresting enough to be told. ‘You’ve gone with the wrong crowd.’ It isn’t a pleasing one either, and she’d rather keep it to herself than stain whatever image her co-staff has with regards to her.

          There’s a mantra in her head that pleads for a customer to come, words whispered in her mind with every feigned chuckle she gives as Chaeyoung spills her own funny tale. It’s almost ending, and Jungah could feel the apprehension swelling as their eyes slowly start to drift towards her. What stories should I tell? Fabricating one is not an option; she’s never a good liar, and Minkyung would surely read her through. No please. Not me.

             When Chaeyoung starts to speak up, the first syllable of Jungah’s name is spoken but her voice is easily drowned by the sound of the door opening. Quick reflex makes Jungah stand from her seat, racing towards the counter to get away from the impending interrogation. The rest of the employees disperse easily, pretending to be busy while Jungah sighs a relief. Her lips are pulled rather widely, thankful that the customer came. A savior.

          “Good afternoon sir!” There’s an added joviality to her voice. “May I take your order?” Her eyes look through the big circle frame of his glasses, a smile lingering more than it should.

“Since 6 this morning?” Seong Im had to think to remember since she had been working so hard all day. “I had to come in early because the new exhibits arrived..”