The next day I just had to scream. Oh, Jesus, which one of you perverted motherfuckers crawled in here? Who knocked over our Venus and sprayed fucking semen everywhere? I tenderly wiped Venus’s lips and throat with a rag for a while, but then threw the rag aside and stormed out. I thought about asking my friend to get my brushes and palette from the art room, but I didn’t care anymore. That was it—I was done with the Fine Arts Club where I mostly killed time anyway.

“Keep pushing on as though you just started” was the motto given to the club, but mine was the polar opposite. I never finished anything. It was easier to erase it and start over. Easier than swatting a fly.

There she is between my half-closed lids. “Are you awake?” Jimin Sunbe1 is asking. “I’m gonna be late again.” Brassiere fastened, her form clothed. “See you later!”

“Wait a sec!” I start coughing. I want to say I’m sorry, I want to say I went over the line last night, but the door slams shut. What’s the occasion? She’s putting on a skirt? And even lipstick? Ever since I started crashing at her place, Jimin Sunbe’s outfit was consistent. She always had her hair tied in a tight ponytail, wore a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and threw on a black jacket and gray scarf. When she added her giant backpack, she looked like a traveler about to go on a trip.

Last night, Jimin, without warning, led a woman with an outfit similar to hers and two men into the room. I was just splitting the hard ramen noodles in half to throw them into a pot of boiling water. I didn’t know we were having guests. Awkward. I crushed the ramen with my fist.

“Say hello, everyone! Here are my dear friends, and this is … well, I’ve talked to you guys about her. This is a talent who hopefully will join our Blue Stockings Club.” Jimin tapped my shoulder as she smiled—her pink chewing gum emerged between her lips. This was the first time I’d even heard of the Blue Stockings Club or anything about me joining it, so I was mostly confused. I turned the stove off and bowed my head to the guests. My big toenails were blue (and they weren’t the only things on my body that were bruised). The woman with a mole on her nose added more water and two more ramen packets into the pot. When she noticed the crushed smithereens of my ramen noodles, she abruptly blurted out, “So, are you and Jimin dating? Just kidding!” and cracked an egg into the pot. My ears felt hot.