Standing in my mother’s house, I was struck by the lack of my presence. I shouldn’t have been, but I was still hurt by the lack of family pictures. It was always like that. I picked up a framed portrait of her pomeranian, understanding that I didn’t have a place in my mother’s new family.

I wasn’t sure I wanted one.

“Thanks for helping me move in, Hayi!” Her voice chimed from down the hall as I set down the gold frame.

“I’m not helping because of you.” I muttered, avoiding eye contact as she flitted past looking like a stereotypical housewife.

I ignored her response, my attention diverted to a box gathered in the hallway outside an open door. I peered into the room, decorated plainly. It looked untouched, as if whoever lived there hadn’t been back in a while.

I opened up the box carefully, finding that it was full of books. I recognized most of the titles as ones I had read before or that were on my to-do list. Crouching down, I inspected them closer, most of the covers and corners worn down from being well-loved. I remembered her mentioning her new husband had adult children and wondered if the books belonged to one of them.

“Why are these books boxed up?” I asked my mother, still crouched on the floor.

“I’m going to drop them off at a donation center.” She answered over the rustling of paper. “We’re clearing out that room.”

“Why do you need to clear out the room?” I wondered, but didn’t receive an answer.

I took the box with me to the bus stop, adjusting it on my hip as I struggled with its weight. As I sat on the bench I perched the box on my lap so I could further inspect its content. One by one I’d take out a book that interested me, reading the back and flipping it through it as I waited for the bus.

Kafka, Murakami, Ishiguro, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Plath.

“You have good taste.” A voice spoke over my shoulder, making me jump slightly in my seat. I snapped around to look at him as the bus pulled into the stop, the surprise obvious on my face. “Do you need help carrying that?”

I shook my head but he easily swept the box from my arms as he walked onto the bus. I followed behind sheepishly, swiping my card and sitting beside him where he held my books hostage.

“Why are you glaring at me?” He laughed, the corner of his lips tugging into a smirk. “Ah, that’s right. You don’t like me.”

“I never said that.” I sputtered, caught off guard by his teasing. I was still embarrassed by our awkward introduction in the dining hall. “I just don’t like you like that.”

I formed the words delicately, using my hands to illustrate. Jaewon only laughed.

“So why is an engineering student carrying around all these books?” He changed the subject, graciously noticing my flushed cheeks and nervous fidgeting.

“Ah, I just found them.” I replied simply, toying with the edge of the cardboard box. “Engineering students can read, too.”

“I’m a literature student so all I do is read.” He sighed. “And write about reading.”

“I’ve always liked reading but my mom never bought me books because she thought it was a waste of money. She didn’t really know better, though. She only graduated high school, so it wasn’t all that important to her.” I stuttered out the last sentence, realizing I sounded like I was looking down on her. “She just… wanted other things in life.”

“Is it important to you?”

“Of course!” I nodded my head enthusiastically. “Honestly, the less my mom pressured me the more I studied just to spite her.”  

“Is that something you’re proud?”

“No, I hate that about myself.” I squeezed my hands into little fists, getting flustered again. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this, we don’t even know each other.”

“It’s okay.” Jaewon laughed again, deeper and more soothing. “I don’t mind, it’s not like I have the best relationship with my folks either.”

“You don’t?”

“No way, we fight all the time.” He held out his hand. “So how about it, should we get to know each other better?”

I shook his hand weakly, something out of this world taken over me. If he’d asked me to jump out of the window I probably would have done it. It was his eyes, there was something in his eyes.

We sat on the bus together in a charged silence, the box of books between us. My eyes flickered toward him each time the bus lurched to a stop, wondering when he’d get off.

“So where did you go to read?” Jaewon asked suddenly and I looked at him in confusion. “If your mom never bought you books, where did you read?”

“Ah, at the library usually.” I wet my lips thoughtfully. “Or sometimes I’d go to bookstores and hide between the shelves until they realized I’d been there all day. I obviously don’t do that anymore.”

“I’d do that, too.” He chuckled. “I liked going to the big bookstores so they wouldn’t recognize me, but eventually they would. It was nice just to hide and get ou