Kang Yeop's short story collection

Youth, beginning

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If I were to piece together the fragmented memories from that fleeting summer, it would always be eternal, always happy. That's how we pictured summer, and even when we ran until our lungs burned, we didn't get tired. Because whenever we fell, we would immediately support each other, so we wouldn't fall apart. I was excited for no reason, and I longed for it for no reason. I didn't know what it was. I didn't know, and I was naive.



At first, he was a rival I felt inferior to. A shining person who always seemed to be loved, who always seemed to have someone by his side, was enough to be an object of restraint. That's why I growled, and you laughed. You laughed even when I didn't pay attention to you. You were so radiant until the very end. Even at the end of summer, when that fleeting haze was absorbed by the cold, you were radiant. If I were to describe you, you were the sun and the Milky Way.




When autumn came, I wanted to see the leaves change color with you. Assuming there hadn't been a minor conflict. You tried to leave, and I collapsed. I relied on you more than I thought, and I didn't know it was fate. I liked you more than I thought, and I didn't know it was love. I didn't realize that those countless days we spent together were youth.




When I close my eyes, I picture that time and a vast sea that I had never even remembered spreads out before. But then, the scent of summer that has already set in and the afterimage of your smile lingers in my vision. Whether I close my eyes or open them, you always linger. Just when I wonder if I have painted you into my optic nerves, as if it were an afterimage, you left at the same time as the afterimage of you disappeared. When I looked back at reality, it was winter.




It was winter. It was a winter where the cold air drew a parabolic arc full of oxygen, and it felt like it was wrapping around my respiratory system. My nose was bright red, and I caught a cold because you hadn't taken care of me and I couldn't wear gloves, so I walked around feeling chilled. I must have caught a bad cold in my heart, because I was sick for several days. I wished you would appear again, even if it was just a dream. I wished you would appear again, even if it was just an illusion. I prayed for three days and nights, but you didn't come back, and I realized that the summer we spent together was youth and love.




A chilly air now sails along the spot where the distant haze once sailed. As it sails through the oxygen, the chill begins to draw a parabola again. The parabola that begins to draw covers your traces, covers the cherry blossoms of last spring, and erases your pain, but if there is one thing that cannot be hidden no matter how hard you try, it is the sun.
So, it was you itself.




Even if the cold weather draws this place once more, I will not change. But I will never draw you with a pessimistic attitude. No one blames the sun for not being covered. We grew up running through time leaving you behind. The sunlight was especially strong in the summer when your memory is vivid, and the sunlight was especially faint on the day you lost.
We do this
I dare to call it youth.