Eighteen's Bed

Chapter 11.1

"Move."

Yohan’s farewell was as absurd and empty as the ending of a B-grade movie.

***

"Of all things, why did it have to be your right arm? How are you going to take notes?"

My homeroom teacher looked at my cast with sympathy.@@@@

"They said I only have to wear it for three months."

I muttered my response like an excuse. The teacher lowered their gaze.

"Sigh, how did you even get hurt?"

It was a light scolding. I wondered—was my soft-hearted teacher really worried about my grades? Or was it the thought of the class average dropping that concerned them? Maybe it was both. People always think in ways that benefit them.

"I’m sorry."

"You’ll still do well on your exams, right? Even with your left hand?"

"Probably, yeah. I think I can manage."

I nodded to myself.

"I have to do well."

"If you ever have any trouble, don’t hesitate to talk to me, okay? I’ll help however I can."

"Min, you don’t have to worry so much. He said he’s fine, didn’t he?"

The voice belonged to the geography teacher, an older man lounging in his chair, reading a newspaper. Apparently, he didn’t have a class right now.

"Why did you have to get hurt now, of all times?"

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