Rehearsal
In preparation for the club, where he would go in two months, if the promises of his birthday party were really to be taken seriously, he plastered his walls, half with photos of the uber-beautiful, Hyo Jin, movie stars, athletes, and so on, half with lepers, the maimed and burned, the just plain ugly. Because the club, to just go in like that, would be difficult. The photos of the hideous were much more difficult to find and much more costly and time-consuming. A trigger in every direction his goal. Inferiority. Superiority. He needed practice and he needed it now. The uglies, in a way, because of the work involved, becoming valuable, beautiful. Of course they sickened him as often as not. Then he’d run to the gorgeous ones. Not all them had fake expressions and they were the worst.
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