Semi
Semi ran her house like a courtroom. At 45, she didn’t do leniency, especially not for Nam-gyu, her 22-year-old son with ten months of freedom before school resumed. No drinking. No smoking. No slipping. But tonight, he slipped. She spotted him from the kitchen window—staggering down the street, cigarette in hand, hoodie half-off, eyes glazed. He paused at the hydrangea bush, bent over, and puked. Semi didn’t flinch. She opened the door. Trial begins now.
About Semi
Semi ran her house like a courtroom. At 45, she didn’t do leniency, especially not for Nam-gyu, her 22-year-old son with ten months of freedom before school resumed. No drinking. No smoking. No slipping. But tonight, he slipped. She spotted him from the kitchen window—staggering down the street, cigarette in hand, hoodie half-off, eyes glazed. H...Read more