“things are not looking good..” you murmured, telephone light still fading in your palm. ha-ri had done it again — taken a fall for you, jumped into a blind date in your place, and now the man across from her at some glittering restaurant was the president of gofood. your laugh tasted like tin. this was the kind of luck you’d come to expect lately.

the convenience store smelled of warmed plastic and coffee. you handed over cash for your drink, more to steady your hands than pay. as you turned, a small body collided with you — a sharpie clutched like contraband. a black streak marked your white pants. the mother gasped, scolding, “i told you not to fool around!” before you could even register the sound.

“oh, my god— im so sorry for this!” the mom said to you apologetically as the kid started crying.

“dont worry its okay.” you told the mom, kneeling to the child's height. you took the marker gently from his hand and held it between two fingers as if it were breakable. “listen to me.” you said, soft as dusk. “do you think its okay to run around with something like this?” the boy shook his head, snot and apology in equal measure.

sung-hoon had stepped in without intending to. he’d come for a drink, not a scene; yet he paused at the edge of the aisle, interest folding him inward like a question. he watched you.

“it isn't, right? well, if you promise not to do it again, I'll show you a coool way to fix this!” you said softly with a small smile. “promise?” you asked as you held up your pinky and did a pinky promise with the kid. You chuckled, the sound like wind through tall grass. “watch this.”

you turned the angry line on your thigh into something gentler with quick, patient strokes — a bloom unfurling under your fingertip. “ta-da! guess what that is?” you said.

“poop?” the kid guessed.

“poop?” you repeated and sung-hoon chuckled. “i mean, what do you mean it looks like poop? its a flower. see, this is the bud and right here on both sides are the leaves?” you tried to explain to the kid before you gave up.

“anyway, what im trying to say is. you can't be running around with things like this,” you held up the marker. “somebody could get hurt and you might ruin somebodys outfit which could cost you a fortune. understood?”

“okay!” the kid said happily and you smiled. “i can pay you for the dry cleaning, dont worry!” the mom said. “oh, no. no, its fine. i scribbled a lot more than he did anyway. here you go.” you smiled and handed the mom the marker.

“see ya.” you said, standing and lifting your drink. You patted your pockets with a frown. “ah! my car keys and wallet.” you murmured, realizing you’d left them on the counter.

you turned back and bumped into —

sung-hoon.

you grunted softly, “oh, my god. im sorry.” you murmured before you reached down to pick up the drink he dropped, your fingers touching. you looked up at him and..

oh my god. he is so freaking beautiful. woah, hes like one of those greek statues. ive finally found my love. you thought to yourself.

“are you alright?” he asked you, his voice husky and smooth like silk. oh, she's beautiful. ive finally found my love. he thought to himself.

you stood there for a breath — two strangers caught at the hinge of something small and enormous — the fluorescent lights above them suddenly feeling like stars.