The drive back was always the hardest. Hours upon hours filled with nothing but an endless loop of songs she could sing along to in her sleep muted by the inescapable feeling of sadness that claws against her ribs. Sometimes she wonders if the discordant discomfort she often feels in the static of silence would be better than this. She supposes she should be grateful. The feeling of sorrow that overtakes her every time she leaves means she has something worth missing, or so eomma had said. It doesn't change how much it hurts. Or how she constantly feels like her life is on pause while she's away. She knows that life at home doesn't stop when she's gone. That her moms still make breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day, still watch movies on the couch on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and make pancakes on Sundays. They still wake up, work, sleep, and get a day older for every night she's not there. But what stings the most are all the ways Eunjoo changes while she's gone. She gets taller, louder, sassier. She finds out who she is and what she likes, and by the time Hana's home for break again, her little sister has changed. ...