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            Mr. Park today seems even more burnt out, perhaps even gaunt. His footsteps are sluggish and faltering as he walks into the classroom. His clothes are disheveled, his shirt collar sticking out and his hair hastily combed. He lays a hand on his chair to steady himself. “Students, let’s now turn to page 46.”
            “Um…”A student wearing a pair of round, gold-tinted eyeglasses cautiously raises his hand. “We actually left off at page 127.”
            The teacher closes his eyes. “Oh, you’re right,” he sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. “If I remember correctly, your homework was—” He suddenly slumps back into the whiteboard, crumpling headfirst onto the marble tiles.

            A wailing ambulance plows through the roads like a war tank in a battlefield. The paramedics fasten Mr. Park onto the stretcher with orange belt buckles.

            Afterwards, parents are already waiting at the front desk, ready to shuttle their kids off to their next academy.

            A Gangnam mother, with a pair of dark glinting sunglasses weaved into a short lightly dyed bob, leans against the front desk with her Louis Vuitton bag on one shoulder. “Miss, since the class was cancelled, could we get a refund?”

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