Seung turned away from the door, his steps heavy as he re-entered the ger. The conversation he'd had moments ago weighed on him, like a stone lodged in his chest. He moved on autopilot, eyes scanning the room until they landed on his jacket hanging over a chair.
He grabbed it, feeling the familiar worn fabric between his fingers. He slipped it on and stepped back outside, bracing himself against the bite of the crisp air.
He took a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill his lungs, sharpening his senses. His mind cleared, just for a moment, until he noticed something—a figure, moving toward him. Seung squinted into the distance, his body tensing as the shape came into focus.
A man approached, holding a rifle in one hand and a freshly killed deer slung over his shoulder. The deer's head lolled lifelessly with each step, its glassy eyes reflecting the sky.
