---
Behind the swaying cream curtain, a quiet battle between military efficiency and nine-year-old childhood was about to reach its conclusion.
The curtain swayed gently.
A few seconds of silence.
Then—
The curtain opened.
Yuna stepped out.
The sweater was slightly too big. The sleeves covered half of her hands.
She stood in front of the mirror.
Tugged at the ends of the sleeves.
Then, unconsciously—
She did a little spin.
One spin.
Quick.
As if to make sure the fabric moved with her.
She stopped.
Looked at .
Her expression grew serious again.
---
"Is it not too... childish?"
I looked at her for a few seconds.
The sweater did indeed feature a small character with an umbrella.
It was clearly not "neutral."
"You are nine," I said.
"Yes."
"That falls under the children’s category."
She looked at the mirror again.
Her hand smoothed her own hair.
"What if it is only worn at ho?"
"That is the function of loungewear."
She was quiet.
Staring at her own reflection.
Then she asked quietly—
"It doesn’t look weird?"
"No."
She looked at a few seconds longer than usual.
As if making sure I wasn’t joking.
---
I wasn’t.
A few seconds later—
The corners of her lips lifted slightly.
Not a practiced smile.
Not a formal smile.
Sothing lighter.
"Alright," she said quietly.
Her hands were still gripping the ends of the sleeves as she went back into the fitting room.
The curtain pulled shut once more.
The sweater was secured, but as the curtain closed, I knew the two-page list folded perfectly in her bag was still far from finished—and the "optional but recomnded" items were waiting to test my budget next.
---
User Comments
0 comments from readers