HA-NA JANG VOL. 2

By Dan Han Min

To Read Vol. 1 Click here

He got home round 5:30. The usual time. Brooding, kicking off his loafers up front and marching up to his bedroom to change, maybe sulk across his floors a little more and recollect any float-about pride. Mum the while. He was short on all matters and liveaday happenings after work, typically; hungry and terse, always. He worked for my beefy harabuji: Ma’s dad. And the old man was an old countryman, which means that he rode all manner of asses damn hard –sixtythree then, and altogether a roughneck that caught a break off of the biengi. So while the other fobs erected their mostly doomed laundries or shaky city stands, Harabuji found himself an assembly job at a metal parts factory.