She traced the line lightly with her finger then stopped and closed the book. Haesu looked out her window, the city lights flickered in the distance. Somewhere people were eating funner, laughing, while others wished for a freedom they would never get. Tomorrow she would be taken to that place, a place she didn’t belong. Haesu lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling, for a long time she couldn’t fall asleep. Not because she was excited, or afraid. Because it felt like the beginning to a question she didn’t know how to answer yet. And once asked, she wasn’t sure it could ever be ignored again. The next morning arrived gray and quiet. Haesu almost wished it were raining. Rain would have meant delays, maybe even cancellation. The thought drifted through her mind as she stood at the window in her socks watching clouds hang low over the city skyline. “Haesu!” Her mom called from the kitchen. “You’ll miss the bus!” “I’m coming eomma!” Haesu called back down. She threw open her closet and grabbed her uniform and put it on. She grabbed her bag from beside the door, slipped on her shoes. The permission form was tucked carefully inside the silver white folder inside her backpack, signed neatly in blue ink. She opened the door and shut it behind her as she went down the stairs, the smell of soufflé pancakes reached her. As she sat down her mother served her a pancake.The pancake was airy and soft with honey dripping off the sides. “Gomawoyo, eomma.” Haesu mumbled softly Her mother smiles warmly. “Cheonman-eyo” her mother replied, serving Haesu’s father. Who glanced up from his coffee. “So this is the border trip?” He asked, setting his coffee cup down and pulling the pancake plate in front of him. She nodded. “Hm.” Her father leaned back in his chair. “I went once when I was your age.” That caught her attention. “Really?” “Its quieter than you expect, and there are two soldiers who stare at each other from across the border” He said after a moment. “That's the unsettling part.”Her mother shot him a warning look. “Don’t scare her before school.” She warned him about flipping another pancake. “I’m not scaring her,” Her father replied calmly. “I’m telling her the truth.” Hasue lowered her gaze to the pancake. Quiet. For some reason, those words stayed with her. After saying goodbye she headed out the door into the cool morning air. The streets were full of people. Students in uniforms, office workers carrying cups of coffee and buses coming to a screeching halt at crowded stations. Everything felt normal, happy even, Underneath all that cheerfulness and normalcy sat the strange awareness that by the afternoon, she would be standing near one of the most heavily guarded borders in the world.
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