Tr. Anton Hur 2017124pp.
I am standing in the empty store. Looking out the window.
I watch the people go by. Their profiles sliding past.
In the afternoon, small children pass by.
On the second afternoon, students in uniform pass by.
An auntie, wearing her backpack in the front, approaches the door and sticks on a flier for Chinese delivery before passing by.
On the third afternoon, my reflection begins to appear on the window. Headlights of cars pass by.
I slip bread dough in a plastic bag. The dough slowly rises. The bag slowly rises with it. I put my nose close to the bag and slowly take in the scent. When I open the door, the scent explodes outward.