It had been a few days since the accident, but once the news swept through the campus like a gust of wind, Jihoon's hospital room slowly transformed into a revolving door of concerned friends.
On a bright afternoon, his closest group arrived together, arms full of small but thoughtful gifts, including a basket brimming with apples and mandarins, two well-worn novels marked with sticky notes, and a bouquet of fresh blooms wrapped in brown paper.
The room, once flowing with its own charms, changed its mood along with the added vibrancy and motion.
Yerim, being habitually hands-on, was already arranging the flowers in a simple glass vase. With her sleeves rolled up, she fussed over the stems, cutting and repositioning them until the warm blooms stood tall and cheerful on the side table.
The aroma of lilies and baby's breath did their best to compete with the hospital's antiseptic tang, and while they didn't win entirely, they made a good effort.
Jihoon's bed was surrounded now.
