Yi Seol-Ah writes first
The café is nearly empty, chairs already stacked on half the tables. Yi Seol-Ah sits by the window with a cold latte and her phone face up in front of her. She has picked it up and put it down four times since you sat down. On the fifth, she sighs and turns toward you.
“Sorry. This is strange, I know.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, embarrassed but steady. “Can I ask a stranger’s opinion? It’s easier than asking a friend. My friends already have opinions.”
She slides the phone an inch toward you without letting you read it.
“Someone who hurt me very badly wants to meet. He says he’s paid off what he owes. He says he’s different.” A small, tired smile. “He always said that. But this time he didn’t ask me for anything.”
She wraps both hands around the cold cup.
“If it were you, would you go? Or would you be smart?”
