I'm still in my room ----browsing, pacing to the door and away----- and at this point I'm convinced my food has gone cold. My stomach isn't grumbling as much now; any discomfort it gives I take a sip of cold water to ease it. It helps a lot, but, I just right now want a feel of proper food on the tip of my tongue.
The sun glitters on the wooden floor beneath my feet. The visible ray is endearing to observe, I cannot bring myself to look away at its shimmering view. A smile creeps on my face as my legs begin to function on its own; closing in the distance between me and the ray.
I am now about one meter away from it. I crouch down and wave my hands in and out of the spotlight; amazed by how such a source can mesmerize me like this. Then it struck me. Same place, same position, same glistening light. Everything happening now seems so familiar. A time in the past, my mind was unfocused, enraptured by this. It's a weird feeling making me think I have been in this situation before; "Deja vu" is what they call it.
"No." I shake my head before denying all these alleged beliefs. When I was a kid, my grandma always had a lecture in mind to tell me that Deja vu is just an excuse people use to convince others that they are not psychotic. Deja vu is an existing vocabulary only for the lunatics, and she strictly mentioned I cannot let myself believe in those things. Ever since then, I refuse to let myself believe that deja vu is a normal thing a human can catch. I swiftly get up and roughly shield the floor from the sun. And in an instance, the spotlight vanishes with it. I release a sigh of relief and rubbed the sides of my forehead in a circular motion, faintly reciting a trance to better sooth my brain.
My stomach grumbles again, louder this time. I clutch onto it, possibly making the most uncomfortable expression while doing this. I blame myself for getting unfocused and being inconsiderate about my body's necessities. I push my body up with one arm, limping to the door with a growling stomach, a sudden reflex holds the door handle and supports my body before it goes face-planted to the door.
The door screeches open; but it wasn't my weak body that accomplished getting a simple thing done. It was someone else on the other side of the door, possibly coming to check up on me upstairs. My head tilts up slowly to see the figure now visible in front of me. I gulp loudly, spit almost clogs my throat in the process. I don't like what I am seeing due to numerous reasons.
"Kang Ha-eun, why the hell did I spend time cooking all of you breakfast, if one of you were not going to bring your ass down to eat it?" Her eyes twitch in an exasperated manner. Her cold glare staring me down sends unwanted chills down my spine. Her apron is still hung on her front, which makes me think she just finished cooking meals in the kitchen. Her black hair is tied up into a neat bun with a sharp, gold binyeo shot through it. She wears it almost everyday, to the point that she seems peculiar without the traditional accessory. She tends to stand out in the crowd and expresses her culture freely. I will say I am still very astounded by how boldly she struts the roadway with her binyeo. Today, she is wearing her chae binyeo, a type specifically used to secure a bun, and it is characterized by its inverted u shape, its design very ornate; adorned to be intricate it amazes people with such a delicate ornament.
As a child, she was gifted she was gifted her first binyeo from her mother; later receiving more from her relatives on special occasions. She was once a radiant little girl owning a collection of traditional artifacts; obtaining new ones to add on to it.
My siblings and I possess an assortment of cultural pins as well, although, it's a rare sighting of us with our hair supported with a binyeo. Anywhere. Naturally, we are constantly bombarded by mother's coax —in general — to at minimum resemble a Korean woman; one who came from our country's annual "Gangneung Danoje Festival" It was an unnecessary change in the matter —it really did not have to be this serious; but my mom stated otherwise.
Even so, I am sick of repeating the same excuse to shut her down. I am not wearing a hanbok to go out!
"Ugh, I knew letting you stay here for the summer will just increase my stress levels, I should've only let your sister in."