SMOKE

SMOKE

Her dark eyes looked at the picture in front of her with disdain. The smoky eyes seemed to look into her soul, they felt so real.

A pris of a shiver reached her back. She hated it. She hated the effect the picture had on her. It bothered her more who was on this picture.

How could he have had such a strong influence on her? They didn't know each other for long. Why was she so addicted to him? Why did his leaving upset her so much?

She wasn't like that at all. She's never been that emotional. She didn't fall for someone so fast and easily.

So why did she feel all these feelings?
What had Jay done to her? How did he manage to change them so much in just a few months?

What had happened to her?

She wasn't like that. In front of the picture of a boy, almost bursting into tears. She shouldn't be this typ of girl.

The brush in her hand was shaking from the pressure her hand is exerting. An intense look at the picture in front of her, the heartbeat so loud that she didn't even hear the sound of the door.

Her hair fell out of her half-tied ponytail. The glasses on her nose suddenly felt a lot heavier than they were. Her eyes followed every line, every strand of hair she painted with so much passion. A passion she loved. Which she went through because she wanted to.

"It's beautiful..." breathed a voice behind her.

Mr. Nam's eyes were fixed on the painting in front of him. Without realizing it, a tear fell. He forgot why he was even there at the sight in front of him. As if he had been hit by a wave of emotions. And he sank deep into the sea of ​​emotions.

On the canvas was his student, Jo Jay. hanging upside down. His face took up 50% of the canvas.

A pained look was painted on his face. The hair was pulled down by the force of gravity. Lips cracked and dry. A single tear fell from his right eye. And there were red string around his neck like someone was going to hang him with them. The background was brushed in a dark gray-brown and gave the picture a dark mood.

Mr. Nam felt feelings from the picture. Fear, sadness, doubt, self-loathing, stress, and oppression.

It was an image that could not be described. You could only see and feel it. Mr. Nam could feel the emotions as if he were the picture himself.

Azadeh remained calm, letting her teacher examine the painting, head bowed slightly. A large hand settled on her shoulder, squeezing her lightly.

"Ms. Hong," he began, "You are a true artist."

Azadeh felt a familiar warmth in her heart, but it wasn't enough to bring a smile to her lips. She murmured a soft thank you, not daring to look up. Her class teacher noticed her depressed mood and had an idea where this gloomy mood came from.

"Azadeh." He said her name. Azadeh glanced slightly over her shoulder.

Her vision is covered by a sheet of white. She took the sheet from her teacher's hand and read the words written on it.

"If I only had a week left to live, what would I do first...?"

Mr. Nam nodded, handing her a pen. "Write down your answer and bring me the paper."

Halfway to walking away, he was interrupted by Aza's voice. "I would take a trip..."

The man turned slightly to her, watching as she held the sheet of paper. "And with whom?"