I thought about Jiwon a lot, just like anyone would think about their first love.

After returning from my trip abroad, I transferred to the university I had attended. I left Seoul behind, but the memories still remained.

Many years later I sat in a bar in Massachusetts. It was dirty and gross, in a cool way. The bathroom was full of graffiti, the bar tops decorated by carved names of friends and lovers. It was usually full of university students, but on that particular week night it was much less crowded.

I was meeting with a colleague, who quickly left once his wife had called. I decided to stay, a book in front of me as I quietly read to myself and drank my beer.

“Hayi?”

It didn’t seem real at first, as I looked up to see him. He had somehow gotten taller, but otherwise looked mostly the same.

“Bobby? Are you coming?” A man asked from the doorway, but he waved him off.

“No, I’ll catch you later!”

“So, it’s really you.” I said in amazement. June was the only one who ever called him Bobby, even though he had convinced us all his friends in America called him that. “In all the bars, in all the towns, in all the world...”

He smiled.

“I haven’t heard Korean in a while. It’s nice.” He sat next to me without an invite, ordering beers and slices of pizza for the both of us. “How are you, Hayi?”

He told me about his work in engineering and I told him I’d been teaching nearby.

“It’s amazing, right?” He said with a bewildered laugh. “How far we’ve come.”

“I guess.” I worked up a smile in return but I was worried about the feelings that were quickly flooding back.

“I went to the airport that day.” He announced, the beer in his glass dwindling. I looked at him in surprise. “I ended up at the wrong terminal, though. And when I realized it later, I just took it as a sign.”

“I’m just surprised you went at all.” I answered honestly.

“Well, I loved you.” He shrugged. “It was hard for me to accept it was over just like that. I didn't even cry until you were already gone.”

I leaned in to kiss him, pressing my lips against his.

“For old time’s sake,” I told him with a smile.

He pulled away, leaning farther back in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Hayi.” He frowned. “Actually, I have a girlfriend now.”

“No, no, I’m sorry.” I apologized. “I should go. It was good to see you and reminisce.”

I left, the neon lights of the bar blurring as tears filled my eyes. I cried in the taxi on the way back to my apartment, realizing I’d forgotten to give him my number. We would never see each other again, I realized in dread. That was it.

It was supposed to be fate that we had met each other again after all of those years, but I was starting to think it wasn’t meant to be at all. It was a sign, just like Jiwon had said.

In the morning I slumped over the desk in my office, sipping on coffee like it was my life blood as I nursed a hangover. An office assistant entered after a knock on my door, saying there was someone to see me.

I walked into the lobby, expecting to see a student begging for extra credit or some discount buyer looking to take some books off my hands. Instead, Jiwon sat in a chair, looking comedically out of place.

He waved when he noticed me.

We grabbed a couple of coffees to go and wandered around campus. We walked in a strange sort of silence, both comfortable and uneasy at the same time.

“How did you find me?” I wondered out loud, remembering I never told him exactly where I taught.

“I already knew you were at Harvard.” He answered simply, sipping his coffee. “I had thought about coming to see you a few times.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I had been shocked into silenc