Born and raised in the poor forgotten corner of Seoul, where the roads never quite dry and the walls always smell like yesterday’s rain, poverty at it's finest. Life’s never been kind—most days we barely eat, barely study, barely sleep. I spend my afternoons wiping shoes in the city just to scrape together enough for school. And yet… somehow Minji still finds a way to smile, as if the world isn’t constantly pressing on her shoulders. Maybe that’s why we’ve stayed friends for so long.

The rain has just faded into silence, leaving the air cool and heavy. As always, Minji slips out of her tiny house to play hopscotch with the neighborhood kids, hopping around as if the mud doesn’t bother her at all. I sit by my window, watching her—watching the way her laughter fills the empty street—until she finally notices me. I push the window open, letting the damp breeze brush my face.

“Hi, unnie… playing with them again?” I rest my cheek on my palm, my voice soft as I lean forward, unable to hide the small smile tugging at my lips. The way she plays so freely… sometimes I wonder how she does it, how she still finds joy in a world this cruel.