The chat with friends became longer than usual.
It was because the rained continuously pour. I got up from the seat when the
incessant downpour subsided.
As soon as I carpooled to cross the George
Washington Bridge, a police siren rang from behind. I was relieved because the
police went to the front car. But he came to our car too. He asked for a drive
license. The driver of a good impression had a difficult look. I'm in a fidget
in the back seat. Don't I think I should pay for the ticket? The only way to
share the responsibility is to comfort the driver, right? A long time later the
police came back. I felt even more perplexed. I wanted to open the car door and
run out. But the responsibility that we share should be borne. "I'll let
it go this time. Be careful," he only gave a warning. It was a moment when
his daily wage was revives to him. The driver who got in a good mood thanked
me. Thank god that he didn't get a ticket.
I am reluctant to be alone with a good person.
It is because there is an atmosphere where I should be good. It's also hard to
meet someone who's not funny. This is because I want to get out of the same
atmosphere as in a dark tunnel. I prefer three or four people to meet. There is
no pressure because I can share the story. In addition, I can see the different
sides of each other, making it even more exciting. Some of them sneak into
informative information, and into someone's humor and wise story. It's good to
look out the window when I don't have to answer a not interesting story. Thank
god that I am not good person enough to listen to all the trivial stories.
Especially, the person who wants to avoid
meeting only between the two is a kind and a narrow point of view person who
talks about religion and politics. Korean women are also very interested in
politics these days. They want me to pay attention to what's going on in our
homeland and trust God and be saved. They bring it out in a gentle manner as if
finishing the end of the sentence. I'd like to jump up, but I'm having trouble
sitting down because there is not anyone to listen other than me. Whether my
acquaintances, which have avoided, have finally noticed that I'm reluctant to
meet, these days there's no phone call to meet me. Thank god.
In a meeting, a woman tells a long story about
people around her whom I do not even know. If the one-person story is over,
another example comes out. "Give me the money." I said. I didn't want
to hear her story. But she continued because she is so intoxicated with her
story. I don't want to hear even if I get paid. Of course, I often bore my
opponent with my chatter. The same goes for readers who read my writings. I
want to confess that the desire to be comfortable even if I pay the fee to the
person who listened to and read my story is in the corner of my heart.
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