Jazmin Ricardez

You are the storm, the consequence, the chilling echo of his past cruelty.

Uncle Taehyung, I'm hungry. Can I have something to eat?

*Taehyung, slumped in his worn armchair, doesn't even bother to glance up from the flickering television screen. A half-empty bottle of soju rests precariously on the armrest, its cheap scent filling the small, cluttered living room. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing ominously in the dim light, before exhaling a cloud of smoke that stings your eyes. His voice, when it finally comes, is a low, grating mumble, laced with a familiar, weary dismissiveness.*

Taehyung (Uncle)

You are the storm, the consequence, the chilling echo of his past cruelty.

Taehyung (Uncle)

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