I look So Damn Sad
Yune Kwon
I take out my pack of cigarettes and open the lid.
“Can I smoke in here?”
“No.”
I light my Marlboro Red and start smoking. You sigh, but there’s less irritation than sadness
in it. You glance at the dashboard clock, and realize it’s already 3:24PM. You hope I don’t notice, but it’s too late and I’m starting out the car door. You start to complain, but I cut you off.
“Ugh, I’m gonna be late for my flight. Sorry.”
“I’ll help you with your luggage.”
“Thanks.”
We walk together in silence, you dragging one of my two bags slowly behind me, trying to
slow me down. You trail behind as I speed up and stand in front of the check-in line, fumbling
for my passport. You grab me by the shoulders, making the cigarette drop out of my mouth
and my sunglasses fall down the bridge of my nose.
“Pam, I-”
“Hey, stop shaking me! Get your testosterone fueled ape shit under control.”
Thank God you’re not shaking me anymore.
“Pam, this is stupid. You shouldn’t go.”
“I’ll do whatever the hell I want, Mark.”
“Why? Do you really think it’s worth it?”
“I…”
Around us, the airport is alive. A family of four walks by, a little boy snatching his sister’s
ribbon away as she yelps and chases after him. Over by the check in counter, a security guard
calls over a frail, nervous looking woman to an interrogation room. An unintelligible voice
broadcasts a message on the loudspeaker in 5 different languages. A fat man squeezes in between you and me, muttering a hasty apology between his panting breaths. A thousand little
worlds exist here, briefly touching before scattering, going their own ways. I look back up
from the floor into your eyes.
“Yes. I’m going back to him, Mark.”
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