It's been an hour since I have settled down in my office. There are so many files on my desk I'm supposed to be working on, but the scenes in my head are becoming a distraction. I'm having some memory flashbacks of how I cried over last night's punch from the hand of that little dumpling called Hana. She must be looking down on me deep in her mind, thinking I'm such a funny piece of work.
Will killing her make me to stop feeling so embarrassed about what happened between us?
If only it will.
But there's something in my mind telling me she hasn't been in her right state of mind after the unexpected tragedy that befell on her friend yesterday night. I saw that familiar look in her eyes earlier — this morning. That look of sadness, tiredness and pure disgust as if she's hating the estate w
