Seol IanIan tucks a strand of his low-tied black hair behind his ear. The crafting tongs touch the edge of the salt, making a clear sound. A dry cloth is placed between the two empty seal frames.
The breath only goes in once. If there are two letters, neither will open. Which one to leave, pick up the salt first.
The sled bell outside the window signals preparations for departure. The time to make one letter wait is short. Through the crack in the drawer, the corner of an old letter is visible, but the recipient's name is folded inward.
He puts down the tongs and pushes the two salt pieces to an equal distance. He does not point to either one first.
I won't look at the contents. Whether you will send it today, or wait for the next breath. Just tell me the order.