Work Text:
“... why..”
One day, the voice weakly called her.
“Why don’t you ask anything?”
His head bowed down shaking with uncertainty, the boy asked. She couldn’t see what he looked like or fixed the bang that had grown too long pouring down covering his entire expression.
But Lee Sookyung could imagined it.
Even the emotion mixed in those black eyes or the light mumble between his breath. Even when she looked at the round head, which seemed fearfully waiting for a reply, she didn’t answer.
Only silence sat between them.
This was how Lee Sookyung made the story solid.
This was how she kept her child safe...
The owner of this story loved her child. But the reader would not know it. Because you can’t know all the emotions of the main character.
“The visiting hour have ended.”
Familiar sentence came out of the prison guard’s mouth. The child turned his back without looking at her, but Lee Sookyung watched the child until the door closed.
It was a sentence of a story that was not used and could not be read by the reader.
——————————————
The child came again after a long time. Today the child told a story of a long novel.
In a cramped space, where the answer didn’t come back, he constantly told the story of his hero. As someone who didn’t want to answer the question he asked, it was fortunate and unfortunate.
But from one day, Lee Sookyung realized the story was supporting her child.
How could she not know. The child said it like it was everything in the world. Raising her child was a story of a man, not herself. The parent of the child was also the story of that man.
After the visiting hour, lying on the bed, she looked at the ceiling where the light had gone out.
‘He has been taken away.’
The opportunity for the child to hide behind her back, and the opportunity to see him grow up with her...
Nevertheless Lee Sookyung continued to write the story.
The story had to continue as long as she was alive.