[ 8:00 P.M. ]

Halla is woken up by her alarm. No, her clock is not malfunctioning— it woke her up at that time each and every day. She rises from her bed and pushes her thick, cotton blanket aside. She stretches her arms up and yawns, mentally computing how many hours she had spent sleeping. Thirteen hours straight—she was starting to need more and more rest as each day went by.

She finally gets out of her bed and drags her feet across the wooden flooring of her room and out, being greeted by a good evening smile coming from her mother. “Hello, honey,” she greets. Halla responds with a smile which was still rather heavy with sleep.

She brings a hand up, rubbing on her eye using the backside of her hand. A yawn seeps past her slightly parted lips as she made her way to the kitchen, There, her father was enjoying dinner by himself. He had his foot up and resting on the chairs, taking up two of them. He turned his head and gave Halla a nod of acknowledgement. “Eat up.” He says, mouth still full of rice, averting his attention back to the television set a room away from where they both were.

Halla nods and sits across the old man, looking at the food prepared (by her mother, she guessed) and picked up her chopsticks. In silence, with nothing else but the sound of the preppy variety show hosts through the TV being audible, Halla eats. In no time, she finishes her food.

“Are you going out again tonight?” Her father asks, sounding a tad uninterested. Halla gathers her utensils, bowls and plates as she wordlessly nods, bringing those onto the sink. “The sun rises early nowadays, so you better be back here by at least 4 o’clock.” He mutters, stoic as ever.

“Yes, dad.” She sing-songs in response, making her way back into her room. She walks over to her bed’s side, picking up her bag from the floor (its contents left untouched since the last time she went out, which was yesterday).

“Again?” Her mother peeks through the small opening of her room. Halla nods instantly, giving her mother a bright smile.

“I’m meeting with Minju. Again.” She says with a grin, walking past her mother and through the living room.

“Minju? Doesn’t that kid have classes…” Her father grumbles, eyes glued onto the TV. Halla is about to make a face at her father, but catches a glimpse of her mother giving her a look as if to ‘let-the-old-man-be’, and so she decides that maybe it’s best that she does.

“I’m going,” Halla turns on her heel, the smile on her face still evident, “I’ll see you guys later—don’t wake up early, alright? I promise I’ll be here before sunrise, so don’t bother waking up to check.” And on that note, Halla exits. Her father watches her disappear behind the door clicking to a close, his stoic front but a mere mask to the worrywart of a man he is in actuality.

==

Halla arrives at her usual spot, a street and a few minutes a walk away. By morning and afternoon, the place is swarming with sweaty high school students, but come nighttime it was just her (and her companion Minju, more often than not): the basketball court of the neighborhood.

She walks towards what she estimates is the center of the court and takes a seat on the floor, despite how she knew it was probably pretty dirty. She outstretched her legs in front of herself, taking off her bag as she scans her surroundings once over. Still no sign of Minju— she was late, as usual. Halla raises her arm and glances at the watch which clung around her wrist, which verified that her companion was indeed late, and it wasn’t that she was just early.

She heaved a sigh, expecting that kind of behavior from Minju in actuality. They’ve been fr