“My friend was mad.”

If Bailey was normally a lemon jam, a zesty flavour that never quite left the tongue, now she was the jar whose lid wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard I yanked. Her pleasant demeanor had evaporated, leaving no trace of character at all – or perhaps it was the fact that I had not had an exchange with her for days – her steely silence communicated everything that I needed to know about how she felt.


“The substitute teacher was strange.”

His every movement was jittery, as if the man had a personal earthquake raging under his feet. His body was thin but his hands large and knobbly, constantly half outstretched, as though there was something in the air he was trying to grasp. When he spoke, the words sounded muffled and demure,a pained expression stretching his face horizontally. Jun found himself shuddering his shoulders in discomfort as the substitute teacher looked his way.

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