Great Novelist

“If that's what you think. ”

“I'm not talking to the end. ”

He added that he didn't expect it.

“I'm attracted to his brother. I don't know about the other roles, but they will definitely be auditioned. ”

“I look forward to it. ”

“I feel burdened if I don't, and neither do you. ”

“When you say so. ”

“People's minds are like this all the time. The important thing is to keep going. ”

Shaking never stops. The attention is high and the original fans will judge the work with a more rigorous foundation. Why wouldn't I feel anxious? But I had to.

"You're going to be great. You need to spread your wings.”

“Well, it's time to fly. I convinced some writer. What's there to be afraid of? ”

Gives a slight burden.

“But don't leave the burden to me. ”

“This is sharing. I haven't said a word to the press about you, so take this. ”

Then he lays the meat on the rice just before riding. He silently put the meat in his mouth.

I was a little excited about the movie that I did not know when it would be released.

“I enjoyed it. ”

“Come.”

He greeted the show in front of the register.

When I came out, the sky was dim. It was a late evening. I didn't even know it was time to talk.

“Ha.”

First, he lets out a small sigh. It's because I remembered the contents of the next article.

There was a blockage.

The overall storyline is well defined. I liked the case and the character. Just one thing. I didn't have one thing to lead her on.

What's right to lead her to regret? I keep thinking, there are some things that come to mind, but there are no words that I like.

I would like to have a representative image. She was similar to her brother in the bird trail. It's destructive and twisted. I wanted to use it for sure this time. The present self is different from the present self.

I wanted to prove it.

She's pregnant. She has a son. And I regret it. As I refined it, I realized that the more I wrote, the more I needed something crucial.

“Can I have a cigarette for a minute? ”

After the calculation, the show asked. He stopped thinking and replied.

“Yes.”

There is a small suction station next to the shop. The show pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. He stares blankly at the lighter and speaks out.

“Don't smoke, it's not good for you. ”

“Haha.”

He laughed as if he already had a history. It used to be pretty smoky. Anyway, I did everything bad for my body. If I hadn't drowned in the river, I would have gone to the disease sooner or later. I thought about it.

“Why do you smoke when you know it's bad? ”

“Of course. ”

“My lungs are precious, so I'll stay away. ”

He turned his back. You hear him groan in the background. When I stopped my feet, I could smell a faint cigarette or a flame burning in between. It smelled like dark gray.

At that moment, he stopped walking.

The smoke that followed me floated in front of my eyes. In the slow, wealthy smoke, he felt his palms frozen.

“What's the matter? ”

The movie asked in a curious voice. He turned his back.

He's here.

It always comes at an unexpected moment. He saw cigarettes in the hands of the show. A cigarette burning red. It was a blazing flame.

“Yes? Why? ”

The projection that felt his gaze asked. He approached him. He blinks without knowing the situation. It was because there was an unusual expression on his face approaching him.

“Me.”

“Oh, why. Does your stomach hurt?”

It's burning. It's getting rid of the white ashes.

“I should get going.”

“Huh?"

The projection didn't even know that the cigarette that was placed between my hands was burning without a beat, and I looked at him.

I met him in the eye. No, to be precise, I looked into his eyes looking at cigarettes.

“I'll go first. ”

“What's the rush? ”

“I'm going to write something. ”

“What?"

What did that young writer just say? Without knowing the speed of the absurd show, he leaned down and ran somewhere. The projection stared back at him without saying anything. It's fast.

“Phew.”

I sucked a sip. A thick smoke gushed out. The projection reminded me of the look in his eyes that I just saw. Dry, thick eyes. Eyes craving something.

“I'm surprised.”

It was a mixture of deficiency and thirst.

You're a successful teenager. Why are they looking at me like that?

The movie, which was thinking with a blank cigarette, was conscious of the thought that came to mind.

It was the eyes of a kite. A character who hides himself in darkness and breathes with fear, but craves light.

The show rubbed a cigarette on a portable ashtray. A gray ash appeared.

He's here.

I thought of a character that would maximize the character of the kite. Those eyes. Those dry eyes. Dry eyes, but craving eyes.

He rushes out busy, waving his messy curly hair.

*

“Huff, huff. ”

He ran, writing on the notebook in his hand. The writing was messy with the expectation of running. However, he wrote with a trembling hand. In case you forgot. I don't think I'll miss the one I barely found.

It may look quite silly from afar. But he ran. I couldn't blow it away while looking at others.

“Oh, Sergeant. ”

I was out of breath trying to get up the ramp. I've been running for a long time, but I still have a way up.

Several scenes were rising and entering in his head. I can't miss a thing. I desperately held on to the feeling of evaporation.

I was out of breath, but I ran.

Cigarettes. The cigarettes in his hands were burning. I couldn't stop myself if it caught fire. There was only one way to burn. It matched the image he had been looking for.

“Hello?”

“I'm back!”

I raised my voice by myself. I greeted my mother and rushed into the room. And I grabbed the paper. Cigarettes. Mom, the main character. Timing. Incident. Story.

Pregnancy.

Pregnancy of life, pregnant with a child or a child. Prologue of Birth.

The grey ash that covers it.

The progress of the article plays in my head. I had to translate the scenes that were imaged like a single video into writing. He turned on the computer. It was glowing on the screen. He took a deep breath. Let's calm down. Writing is rational. Don't miss out on excitement. I can't be satisfied with being dragged into a post.

“Phew.”

It reveals itself when you no longer hear the sound of your breath.

There was a woman on the bed.

I'm burying my face in a duvet. I never looked back. He slowly approached her. As I sat on the bed, I heard Bashrack and the cloth crumpling. She hides herself between the sheets without giving her a single glance, despite her popularity.

I reached out to her.

I swiped her long hair. Her neck is bared. It was a white and thin neck. He buried his face there. I closed my eyes and took a breath. I smell flesh. It was her scent.

I was a little choked. I felt like the deep parts of my lungs were broken. Her body smelled like that.

I slowly opened my eyes.

The white smoke blinds you. But he didn't call her. She didn't open her mouth either.

Only in silence, the two of them spoke.

I can see her movements in the smoke. You turn your head this way. I tried to see her, but I couldn't make eye contact with her to cover the white smoke floating through the air.

I could still tell. She regrets it.

I was drowning in regret.

I closed my eyes again.

The water is stalking. What shone within it was emotion, words, things, and stories. I dipped my hands in it. The cold is rising from my fingertips. I felt refreshed. Not bad.

I could use it now.

I postponed the idea of messing with my head on one side. Worried about the results, obsessed about the change. I focused solely on my fingertips. Transfer this coolness onto a blank sheet.

Tadak.

Every time I move my hands, the letters fill up.

The shortage is filled.

I can see the river flowing.

“Yawn.”

Looking at it, he yawned.

Last night, last night, he wrote late. The next one was flowing like that river towards the end. I wrote because it was so unblocked when I had a chance. And I came out here to rest for a while because I couldn't win over Mother's temperament. It was true that he was tired of dealing with the letters all day, so he went for a walk without saying anything.

Where the river is visible.

I was sitting under a bridge that was connecting something. There was no objection to butting on the bottom.

He stared at the river.

Watching the river waves weakly makes me want to get close. It's probably a dangerous impulse.

The waterlight closer to black than blue was not very beautiful.

It was deep and dark. It looked dangerous to me.

Maybe it looks that way because I have memories of going in there.

I recalled that day.

Water flowing from somewhere becomes one. There are no individuals there. He reminded me of memories in the water. I couldn't tell one from the other. I can't hear myself breathing. It was endlessly black. Maybe it was too white to see. It seems to have been quiet or noisy.

Eventually, nothing was right.

Memory is ambiguous. He could tell. I will forget the thoughts I had while sitting under the bridge and looking at the river in less than a year.

Try to remember, and it won't work. They'll look around and pick out the most plausible one.

He took out a small notebook and pen from his pocket. So this is what we need. Text. Leave a note here and you'll remember this day for a long time.

He thought about the next one. I got tired of writing, but I couldn't see the bird. When I wanted to clear my head for a moment, I always thought without exception. He didn't stop it.

The next one was written in coincidence. Since it was the next coincidence, it was natural to write as a coincidence.

Context is a fingerprint that represents the personality and self of the author. You have to have your own style to become a writer. That became two.

A gorgeous, understated style that was born in the birdstream. And it was born 30 years later.

It was proof of time, proof of coming back here. The boy who was innocent grew arrogant and eventually crashed. And the moment I tried to fly again, I fell into the water. His wings were wet and he was only looking up at the sky.

He looked up at the sky. It was really high sky. There was no wind, no clouds. You see a white crab in the blue sky.

It was falling.

White crab fall off?

“What the hell? ”

An object that was rushing to the left and to the right soon passed through the mainland and landed on the floor. He reached out for it. And I read.

“That's the manuscript.”

It also has writing on it. Two double quotes. A figure was speaking.

Fluffy.

Another chapter is missing. And another chapter. He looked up at the sky.

“Wow."

Dozens of papers were flying in the sky.