The light has gone out, there is no electricity at all. The concierge in black tells me that “Someone will come tomorrow.” Next morning as I look at him with expectant eyes, he tells me again that, “Someone will come tomorrow.” So I return to my little room and wait. ‘Come, please,' I whisper as I stare at the walls of my room. I know I am only a guest here, passing through, but surely you can find some time for me. During the day I think about going out, but I worry I will miss you. At night I feel lost looking into the dark, straining my eyes searching for a spark of light. Have I been forgotten?
The air shimmers in front of my eyes. I don’t remember anymore how long I have been laying in this room. I don't go out.
I just wait.
Originally from South Korea, Heain Joung holds an MA in Creative and Critical Writing from Sussex University. She now lives between the UK and South Korea. Her short fiction can be found in Full House Literary, Flashback Fiction, FlashFlood Journal, Tiny Molecules, Gastropoda, among others. Twitter @heainhaven
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