Imported from Spain
IMPORTED FROM SPAIN;; G
hwayoung's life is awesome post-t-ara, and this makes jiyeon feel only slightly insecure. let's skip ten years into the future for this cause, baby.
She sees her ten years later in a movie queue.
Cigarette embers burn. Jet black closed-toe shoes skid. Hair grown, the color of birth, it's a mature look. First button is undone intentionally, but her skirt is cleanly pleated. She's well put together and she's aware of it.
"I have two kids now. Johmee and Kate. I named Kate after the actress, Kate Winslet for inspiration."
A piece of black ember flies towards Jiyeon and she wrinkles her nose at it, trying not to displace her look between apathy and interest. She's having a hard time deciding how involved in the conversation she wants to be. Hwayoung smirks, a long drawl to the side of her face before she takes another puff and keeps her mouth tilted. She knows she's winning.
"Are you married, then?"
Jiyeon looks at Hwayoung's hands. Ten fingers. Smooth skin like that soaked in Vaselline. Pink knuckles, long fingernails. French tipped manicure. Recent. Less than three days old. No rings. Only a hint of a luxury gold watch peeking behind the curve of a sleeve. Imported.
"Nah. Used to be. More exciting not to be. You?"
Tables turn. Jiyeon feels nervous and plays with the lining of her back jean pocket. Hwayoung peers at her, waiting, tapping her cigarette's excess on the floor.
"Never been."
"I know. I've seen you all over the news. Korea's darling." It comes out sarcastic and Jiyeon feigns caring, but Hwayoung offers her a considerate shoulder squeeze. It's dripped in kindness and Jiyeon whispers in Hwayoung's ear to make the conversation close. Memorable.
"It's all media play, and I hate it."
"I remember."
A brief glance. Shifts of the eyes, the jutting out of the mouths. Cigarette finishes burning. The ground catches the smoke and stick. Black heel squashes it. Jiyeon adjusts the zipper on her sweater. Wind shifts and there's a chill. Jiyeon smiles and Hwayoung never stops drawling her lips to the side, all knowing and omnipresent.
"We should get lunch sometime. Chat, catch up."
Jiyeon's cellphone hangs mid-air as the peacemaker.
Hwayoung punches her digits in, slow, purposely, like it's hard work, sewer work and construction worthy.
"Cute shoes." It's a compliment and Jiyeon blushes. She's twenty-nine and she blushes, fresh and crimson, the skin on the apple of her cheeks stinging slightly. It's the wind. She looks down - there's a crack in the pavement where the embers have fallen in; there's weeds growing, muddy, an off green color and unsightly.
Jiyeon skips the movie.
She goes to the shoe store. Size seven. Narrow heel. Velvet pumps. Toes squeeze, creeping through the top of the shoe. Fiery color, something full of passion and the remarkable need to prove something.
She throws her old shoes away in the dumpster behind the alley.
hwayoung's life is awesome post-t-ara, and this makes jiyeon feel only slightly insecure. let's skip ten years into the future for this cause, baby.
She sees her ten years later in a movie queue.
Cigarette embers burn. Jet black closed-toe shoes skid. Hair grown, the color of birth, it's a mature look. First button is undone intentionally, but her skirt is cleanly pleated. She's well put together and she's aware of it.
"I have two kids now. Johmee and Kate. I named Kate after the actress, Kate Winslet for inspiration."
A piece of black ember flies towards Jiyeon and she wrinkles her nose at it, trying not to displace her look between apathy and interest. She's having a hard time deciding how involved in the conversation she wants to be. Hwayoung smirks, a long drawl to the side of her face before she takes another puff and keeps her mouth tilted. She knows she's winning.
"Are you married, then?"
Jiyeon looks at Hwayoung's hands. Ten fingers. Smooth skin like that soaked in Vaselline. Pink knuckles, long fingernails. French tipped manicure. Recent. Less than three days old. No rings. Only a hint of a luxury gold watch peeking behind the curve of a sleeve. Imported.
"Nah. Used to be. More exciting not to be. You?"
Tables turn. Jiyeon feels nervous and plays with the lining of her back jean pocket. Hwayoung peers at her, waiting, tapping her cigarette's excess on the floor.
"Never been."
"I know. I've seen you all over the news. Korea's darling." It comes out sarcastic and Jiyeon feigns caring, but Hwayoung offers her a considerate shoulder squeeze. It's dripped in kindness and Jiyeon whispers in Hwayoung's ear to make the conversation close. Memorable.
"It's all media play, and I hate it."
"I remember."
A brief glance. Shifts of the eyes, the jutting out of the mouths. Cigarette finishes burning. The ground catches the smoke and stick. Black heel squashes it. Jiyeon adjusts the zipper on her sweater. Wind shifts and there's a chill. Jiyeon smiles and Hwayoung never stops drawling her lips to the side, all knowing and omnipresent.
"We should get lunch sometime. Chat, catch up."
Jiyeon's cellphone hangs mid-air as the peacemaker.
Hwayoung punches her digits in, slow, purposely, like it's hard work, sewer work and construction worthy.
"Cute shoes." It's a compliment and Jiyeon blushes. She's twenty-nine and she blushes, fresh and crimson, the skin on the apple of her cheeks stinging slightly. It's the wind. She looks down - there's a crack in the pavement where the embers have fallen in; there's weeds growing, muddy, an off green color and unsightly.
Jiyeon skips the movie.
She goes to the shoe store. Size seven. Narrow heel. Velvet pumps. Toes squeeze, creeping through the top of the shoe. Fiery color, something full of passion and the remarkable need to prove something.
She throws her old shoes away in the dumpster behind the alley.