Jew - miles below the moon

A cold, dark night. A long, seemingly endless corridor...

In the quiet courtyard, the sound of three pairs of feet echoed. The one in front, briskly walking, belonged to the morgue worker. The two pairs of feet dragging reluctantly behind were his and his mother's. His mother was almost bent over. He was able to walk only because he held her by the shoulders.

The sound of the telephone ringing earlier still echoed in his ears. He had never thought that a telephone ringing could be so cruel. His mother had become as soft as a doll after that ringing.

I don't want to watch it, Mom, I don't dare.

He was only muttering in his mind, but his body was following his mother. He wanted to avoid a bitter possibility for the rest of his life if possible. With what could he avoid it? Now, the mother and son were walking towards that possibility with trembling, dragging steps.

What will they see in front of them? Whose face will they see?

He wanted the person next to him right now to be someone who was able to face everything calmly, not a shaken mother. For now, it would be better for him to simply pray in bed.

He felt like backing away, trembling and wanting to run away, as if he knew in advance what lay behind a large door he could see ahead.

He had just turned 18. He decided that Mom shouldn't be driving at this time, so he drove. He was old enough to drive for his shaken mother.

However, he was not yet mature enough to stand up straight in front of his mother when looking at a corpse covered in white. Especially that face...

The door swung open and the worker entered from the front.

He held his mother's cold, limp hand tightly and followed her into the large room. Suddenly, from the dim light to the bright light, his eyes widened. The room was freezing and steaming. A chill ran down his spine and his whole body stiffened. His strong steps stopped abruptly when he suddenly saw a white object on the high cart. He heard his mother's inaudible cry.

The floor of the temple held both of their legs together like roots.

His mother squeezed his hand in fear.

"Mom"

His encouraging voice was hoarse and cracked.

He gritted his teeth, grabbed his mother's hand, and took a step forward.

However, he was not yet mature enough to stand up straight in front of his mother when looking at a corpse covered in white. Especially that face...

The door swung open and the worker entered from the front.

He held his mother's cold, limp hand tightly and followed her into the large room. Suddenly, from the dim light to the bright light, his eyes widened. The room was freezing and steaming. A chill ran down his spine and his whole body stiffened. His strong steps stopped abruptly when he suddenly saw a white object on the high cart. He heard his mother's inaudible cry.

The floor of the temple held both of their legs together like roots.

His mother squeezed his hand in fear.

"Mom"

His encouraging voice was hoarse and cracked.

He gritted his teeth, grabbed his mother's hand, and took a step forward.

He held the white cloth and closed his eyes as he pulled it. He heard his mother's deep sighs. Then the room became eerily quiet.

He closed his eyes and counted the seconds. One...two...three. Then he opened them suddenly. He looked down at something he had never dared to look at. His heart stopped beating.

There was only one face. The dark face of a boy of 15 or 16. The eyes were sunken and closed under thin eyebrows.

Heavy tree

His body floated in the air. He never thought he would be able to float like this after being hit by a bullet.

Mom hugged him and started crying. "It's okay, Mom.. It's okay, son.."

His whole body was still floating in the air. His knees were still shaking. His heart, which had been trembling with excruciating anxiety, was gradually aching. His mother's body collapsed on top of him.

"Mom..."

When he hurriedly held her and hugged her, my mother fainted and fainted.

He felt a bitter pain inside him.

This... you... are a very useless guy.

First day....

Pain is something that is born, ignorance has made me a saint, full of tears and truth, I can no longer be proud.

(Allen Ginsberg)

After writing a short letter consisting of just two sentences, he left his brother's house.

I wonder if his brother, who often said he wanted to play with the moon like a basketball and throw it in the air, went out to catch the moon. He didn't write anything about the moon in the letter.

Oh my god...

"I don't want to stay at home anymore, so I've left. Don't look for me. Here."

2

After writing a short letter consisting of just two sentences, he left his brother's house.

I wonder if his brother, who often said he wanted to play with the moon like a basketball and throw it in the air, went out to catch the moon. He didn't write anything about the moon in the letter.

Mom and Uncle...

My son left because he didn't want to stay at home anymore.

Don't look for your son anymore.

This is it."