The light is terribly stale, the linoleum floor makes funny noises whenever somebody walks by. Most people walking by are wearing large mint-coloured v-necks and white pants. All the others are rather immobile. There's this one guy who came in a second ago. He complained about his stomach and laid down in the corner. Then there's a girl who was here from the beginning, she hasn't said a word. Neither has her friend.
On the other end of the room, a whole different story. There's a woman who seems drunk, and from what we could gather she fell down some stairs and hurt her head. She's lying, too, therefore quiet, thank goodness, but the other woman she came with is a royal pain. She talks like she were the one in pain. And, well, there's us. Giwoun and me, both sitting. Him on one of the beds, and me in a pretty comfortable chair.
After observing the place, we looked at each other and shrugged. For a moment I forgot that he's in pain, too. All because of a cross-over move. He could have won the game, but instead shit happened and now we're here. Jeunes is sitting in the waiting room, waiting for us to get back, waiting to finally get home. It's a depressing scene, at past midnight here in Hannam-dong. Let's hope for the best, it could always be worse.
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