By Zephyria 
I killed someone.
The body temperature drifting away from my fingertips, the wide-open eyes, hands wandering in search of something to grasp, legs floating in the air, the fluttering of clothes.
All of it left an afterimage, slow as if in slow motion.
I want to preserve this dramatic scene as a single painting.
I think ‘Struggle’ would be a good title. Whether it is the struggle of the one trying to live or my own struggle to kill, I cannot be sure.
It would certainly be a work that could stand side-by-side with Munch’s The Scream, a piece so famous that even a seven-year-old kindergartner would know it.
I gripped the railing and looked down. A large bird was falling. The bird, which had flown high without knowing the limit of the sky, trusting its wings, could no longer support its rotten carcass and fell down, further down, until it finally hit the ground.
Thud. With a loud noise, the body sprawled across the cold stone floor, soaking it in red water; it looked so incredibly small. It was similar to an ant that would simply burst and die if pressed and rubbed with a finger.
I gave a thumbs-up and closed one eye. The bastard who had been acting up without fear was barely hidden behind my thumb.
Visible. Invisible. Visible. Invisible.
Folding and unfolding my thumb, folding and unfolding it again, I hummed as if singing a song.
“……Cha Soo-kyung.”
I turned my head at the sound of my name called in a low voice. A man with a pale complexion reached out toward me.
“Come here.”
It was a command, but just like the name that escaped his lips, the man’s fingertips were trembling. I stared silently at the shivering fingertips before turning my gaze back down.
People were gathering around the road, which was stained as if a single drop of red paint had been splashed upon it. Black dots were swarming.
Just like ants. Ants gathering around sweet cookie crumbs.
The man slowly approached from behind, grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me away from the railing. Turning me around, he scanned me from head to toe and asked, “Are you okay?” I couldn’t help but laugh because the man asking that looked far from okay himself.
“It’s the best.”
While held in the man’s arms, I turned my head and glanced down.
“It’s the best… to the point that it couldn’t possibly get any better.”