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When I counted to three, I heard the sound of laughter like a hallucination. The next moment,
the young me passed by, holding someone’s hands. I looked back quickly but there was no one
there except my classmates, staring at me. “Hoseok-ah.” The teacher called my name. Only
then did I realize where I was. It was a class field trip. I was counting the fruits that were drawn
in the textbook. Five, six. I kept counting, but as I did my voice trembled and my hands grew
sweaty. The memory of that time kept surfacing.
I couldn’t clearly remember my mother’s face, that day. I only remembered the chocolate bar
she gave me as we looked around the amusement park. “Hoseok-ah. Count to ten and then
open your eyes.” When I had finished counting and opened my eyes, my mother was gone. I
waited and waited, but she never returned. I had only counted to nine. If I counted one more
time it would be fine, but my voice wouldn’t come out. My ears were ringing and my
surroundings grew cloudy. The teacher kept pointing, telling me to keep counting. My friends
were staring at me. I couldn’t remember my mother’s face. It seemed like if I counted one more,
my mother would really never come back for me.
Just like that, I collapsed to the ground.