If I was a dog, I would slow my pace, flatten my ears, bow my head, tuck my tail between my hind legs, and whimper. If I was a horse, I would stamp my front hoof against the granite tiles, stiffen my ears, rear my head back, tuck my hindquarters, and flare my nostrils. If I was an opossum, I would go into shock and play dead, belly up.

But I'm not a dog or a horse or an opossum. I'm a human being and as a human being, I can control my behavior. I can choose to hide how nervous I am. I can pretend. So that's exactly what I do. After painting a new face and straightening my posture, I take a deep breath and make long strides to the back of my workplace.

With a folded up piece of paper that was weighing down my back pocket like lead, I stand confidently before my boss. My hand trembles as I unfold the white square and outstretch my hand. She recognizes what it is before she has a chance to read it and sets the document on her desk. "Is there something wrong," my boss asks me as she takes my brass store key out of my hand.

I force a genuine grin as I look her straight in the eye. "No, of course not," I lie, choosing my words carefully, "I found a new place is all. It's too far from Seoul for me to continue working here." She nods, telling me she understands and wishes me the best.

she thinks

she understands.

i could almost laugh.

she understands

nothing.

"Thank you," I tell her as I bow a respectful ninety degrees.

A wave of nostalgia hits me as I take one last look at the place full of memories. Only for a split second do I feel the urge to run back in there, take that piece of paper off her desk, and rip it to shreds. But I can't. Things will be easier for the important people in my life if I cut all ties I have with everything and everyone now.

it's okay,

though,

because

i won't carry this burden

for much longer.

A wet tickle trickles down my face, so I wipe it with my sleeve and sniff. Out of nowhere a wave of fatigue crashes over me and I feel the urge to lay down right where I stand. My strength is waning due to no sleep and no food. I'm not a fan of feeling so drained, but

why would i care

for a body that's

irrevocably

wasting

away?

Forcing myself to ignore my physical condition, I turn my attention to a small, round pebble that lies two feet (about half a meter) ahead of me. I approach the rock and begin to kick it with the tip of my bare toes. My aim sucks and I miss the pebble frequently, causing the tip of my toes to scrape the rough concrete.

Oddly enough, I find this little thing kind of cute. The round rock runs ahead of me like a puppy would do until it's leash is yanked. Then it sits and waits for me to catch up before running ahead again. I used to have a puppy, but...

I kick the small stone a tad too hard and in the wrong direction. My eyes follow the pebble as it bounces into traffic and watch as the front tire of a truck inevitably runs over it. I wince. Sighing at the loss of my companion, I run my fingers through my recently-dyed hair.

if only i possessed

the power

to switch places

with that pebble.

I refocus on my feet as I continue walking. Red is seeping out of the deep scrape wounds on my toes. I wonder how many times I missed the rock. Eventually, my feet bore me so I look ahead instead.

Right as I look up, I run right into a dressed-up man holding an uncovered thermos. Its contents slosh out and wet us both. The man's face goes red at the sight of his green tea soaked into the material of his slick suit, white undershirt, and lavender silk tie.

His undercut is styled with a short, bleach-blonde fringe swept to the left in a way that leaves his forehead exposed. I can hardly make out his light but thick eyebrows. The blonde inches his circular black frames up the bridge of his nose and looks in my direction. I wonder why he didn't bleach his patchy goatee as well.

With his finger pointing at me, the man opens his mouth and I prepare to be chastised, but it's as if his words got caught in his throat. He lets out a heavy sigh instead. "I understand what it's like to be so exhausted that it's nearly impossible to hold my head upright," he tells me, harshly placing his big hand on my shoulder, "but watch where you're going next time." Then he walks away, putting his gold smartphone up to his ear saying, 'yeah, yeah I'm still here.'

he understands

nothing.

nobody understands

anything.

I slide my hands into my back pockets and tilt my head back. My eyes ache as I have a staring contest with the unbearably blinding sun.

i wish that i could

simply feel

"exhausted"

instead of feeling

dead.