You Were My Life, But Were You Not?
A person finds the umbrella their lost love left behind, only to discover it mysteriously returns years later.
This is an English translation of a story originally written in Korean by the
Hwasee.bang community, one sentence at a time.
Each sentence was submitted separately and chosen by community vote before the next one could be written. Nobody knew how it would end.
Read the Korean original →
Each sentence was submitted separately and chosen by community vote before the next one could be written. Nobody knew how it would end.
Read the Korean original →
That night, only the umbrella you left behind came back, soaked and alone.
I took it gladly, thinking it was at least a trace of you.
The rain stopped falling, and your traces too gradually faded away.
They say the traces left by an old person should be covered by the traces carved by the next one, and I too had a next person.
But this morning, that umbrella was lying in front of my doorway again.
This is a finished translation and can't be continued here.
Hwasee.bang's English edition runs its own separate relay stories that are being written right now — visit the English edition to read or join one.
Hwasee.bang's English edition runs its own separate relay stories that are being written right now — visit the English edition to read or join one.