About a Girl

 

I don't like getting wet in the rain. I remember she said to me one day, "I don't like getting wet in the rain, but I like rain." It's raining today, so I'm thinking of her. I'm remembering her, so I sit down to tell about it. I don't know much about her, and I may not be able to reveal every aspect of her life.

We worked at an institute together. When I met her for the first time, I didn't think much about her; I just told myself she was a good girl, supportive and chipper. She was my senior and was helping me at work because I was new to the institute. And of course, that was true; I was completely inexperienced, and her assistance was beneficial to me. She was very hardworking and knew everything about all aspects of work. She accomplished her work brightly and joyfully. Sometimes she read a book in her spare time. Soon she left the institute and went to another. I felt, alas, about it.

After that, fortunately or coincidentally, we got in touch. We became friends and talked for hours.

She loved listening to music; in fact, we were both very fond of it. If she heard a song for the first time and liked it, she asked me, "Did you hear this song?" If I said "no," she told me to listen. It was probably a coincidence that

I liked whatever song she told me. Then we listened to it for hours. 

She used to tell me, “One day we would go crazy listening to songs all the time.

I smiled and said, “We are already crazy, no need to more. She laughed.

We mostly had stupid but interesting conversations. Many times her message came, and she asked, “What're you doing”? I just said, "Thinking about you." 

“Don't think about me, I don't like anyone thinking about me". I wondered about her response, "but what's the problem if anyone thinks about you”? I asked her. "I don't like it that way." I was surprised.

She became very strange sometimes. She was such a girl. Different from other girls, she wasn't jealous, combative, or skeptical, like other girls. She was a cheerful, lively-hearted girl with a great sense of humor. Her interests were good. She loved poetry, and she was also a good poet.

"When will you write a poem for me? Then I'll acknowledge you as a good poet," I said to her many times, mischievously. She agreed, "I'll write for you someday." Then one day she recited the poem she had written for me. "Awesome, truly awesome." Her poem mesmerized me. 

She was very beautiful. Straight black shiny hair, thin nose, and above all, her dark brown eyes. Whenever I admired her eyes, she said, "Thanks to my eyes," she replied after being complimented by me.

She wore very beautiful dresses and looked extraordinary, especially in jeans. "You look so beautiful every time you pull your hair back." I praised her again.

In those days, it seemed we would never be apart. Nonetheless, one day she went somewhere without telling me. I tried hard to contact her but to no avail.

Whenever I think of her, I remember her phrase, “We will consistently be in contact with one another whether we go anywhere in the world." 

I don't have a picture of her, nor anything else to remember, except for a couple of talks.