Game 41: Ha-neul's School Day
The cafeteria clock ticked like it had nothing better to do, each second dragging its shoes across the floor like a tired janitor.
Ha-neul sat at her desk with the kind of posture that screamed, I don't care but also I'm top three in this class, so don't test me. The morning sunlight pushed through the classroom windows, painting long slanted stripes over the rows of desks. Chalk dust lingered in the air like faint fog, catching the light. The world might have been cracked wide open by the appearance of the Towers, but the school still smelled of old paper, disinfectant, and the faint chemical tang of too many instant ramen packets reheated in the cafeteria microwave.
Outside, cars honked. A crow landed on the fence and cawed like it was complaining about the weather. Inside, students shuffled, whispered, lived their tiny dramas.
Life went on.
