Jiyoo turned towards the living room door. Mother bent over and picked up the hair dryer that had dropped to the floor. The whirring started up again. When Jiyoo reached the threshold, her toe hit something. It was the nozzle of the hair dryer.

Jiyoo ever so slightly turned her chin to look back over her shoulder. The hair dryer was by itself blowing hot air across the floor. Mother, on the other hand, was on her knees, apparently looking for something underneath the sofa. Jiyoo slid across the floor the hair dryer nozzle, which might have been the thing Mother was looking for. But Jiyoo didn’t slide it towards Mother. She slid it towards the kitchen table. The nozzle slid under the table like a speeding bullet. It let out a scratching sound as it skidded across the floor, but it seemed like Mother hadn’t heard it. If she had, she would have asked about it.

Jiyoo left the living room. She tiptoed up the stairs like a ballerina and then disappeared into her room.

That day was unbearably long. Jiyoo felt like she was trapped, not on the second floor, but in time. Only after eating, going to the bathroom, perching on the windowsill…

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