2020, May 15 - Namjoon (Leaving Our School, and My Friends)

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[Place: Hideout]

I cut across the classroom-turned-storage room, which served as a hideout for the seven of us, straightening up some chairs along the way. I picked up an overturned desk and wiped the dust off with my palms.

Today was my last day at this school. My family had decided to move two weeks ago. Abeoji had developed "complications," which we couldn't afford. Our rent had been overdue for months. Our neighbors' goodwill and the pay from my part-time job at the gas station couldn't cover it all. We had to move before our deposit ran out.

I folded a piece of paper in half, put it on the desk, and picked up a pencil. I had no idea what to write.

Minutes passed. While I was scribbling on the paper, the pencil lead snapped. I must survive. That was what I put down without realizing it before fragments of black lead scattered all over.

I crumpled up the piece of paper, put it in my pocket and stood up. Dust rose when I pushed the desk. Before walking out of the room, I blew on the window and wrote three words. No farewell message would be enough to let the others know how I felt. At the same time, no farewell message was needed to make myself understood.

"See you again." It was a wish, rather than a promise.

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