Small city. Big buildings, walls of glass and metal that reached the sky. Constant walking, people moving from one place to another. Many are familiar faces but no one she really knows save for the regulars--the ones who come by the cafe every day. Friendly people all with their own schedules. Each one comes in at the same time every day ordering their usual drink. Some chat for a while. Some sit down to read or study. Then, they leave. It’s the same every time.

 

How many years has it been now?

 

Was it four or five since she moved here?

 

The bell chimes as the front door swings open. A man in a slightly wrinkled button up shirt , tie loose and unfinished around the neck, wearing pleated pants, walks in. Jackson Wang. Right on time.

 

A simple cup of Americano with a blueberry muffin on the side.

 

Seulgi goes straight to preparing before Jackson makes it to the counter, pulling a few dollar bills from his pocket. In a little over a minute, she’s done, puts the order out, and he passes over his payment. He throws a few dollars into the tip jar as well.

 

“Thanks for that, Jackson. Rough morning?” Seulgi nods to his disheveled appearance.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs. They move down the counter and he takes a seat on a free stool. “Woke up waaaay too late. I barely managed to put this shirt on right. Hey, mind telling me if I have any mismatching buttons?”

 

Jackson sits up straight, moves his tie out of the way, and puffs his chest out. Her eyes quickly run down his shirt.

 

“You’re fine.”

 

The man sighs. Pops his collar and properly does his tie this time. The good ol’ Windsor Knot. She used to help her brother with his tie. Taught it to herself after she saw how terrible her brother was at it once he had to start wearing suits at his job. But she mostly learned how to just to spite him. Not so much to help.

 

Jackson fumbles with the knot. “This is harder without a mirror.”

 

“Here, I’ll fix it,” Seulgi says, wiping her hands on the front of her apron.

 

He stands to lean over the counter. With minimal effort and quick precision, Seulgi does the knot and fastens it. Snuggly fitting it to his neck. Jackson examines it, flattens the tie down with his hand, and folds his collar back.

 

“Thanks,” he says, sitting back down. Finally he takes a sip of his coffee.

 

“Still got your nine o’clock meeting later?”

 

“Yeah--aw crap,” Jackson groans. He flashes a quick look to his watch and stands. Takes the cup and gulps his Americano down. “Can I get--”

 

“A bag for your muffin?” Seulgi completes his sentence, passing over a brown paper bag with shop’s logo on the front--Queen’s Cafe.

 

“Thanks,” he laughs and bags his breakfast. Folds the top down to seal it. Then, hops off the stool. “You’re the best, Seulgi! See you tomorrow morning!”

 

“Yep, take care!”

 

He runs out as another two regulars walk in. And Seulgi knew just what they wanted as well.

 

//

 

Three o’clock in the afternoon. Her end of the day. Seulgi hangs up her apron and grabs her backpack. She weaves past all the chairs and tables. Bidding goodbye to her boss and coworkers.

 

“See you tomorrow!”

 

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Seulgi!”

 

She steps out onto the city streets. In the depths of her pocket, she pulls out her earphones. All bundled and tangled. Carefully, she unravels them before plugging it into her phone and hitting the play button. Her head bounces to rhythm. Cold hands find warmth in the tight pockets of her jeans.

 

She looks left and right on the street. A little less busy than usual.

 

But still the same.

 

Except for the flowers. There were more flowers.

 

To the right, neighboring the cafe, was a flower shop. It was a quaint and peaceful little thing. She only ever walked by it but it’s been around for as long as she’s been working at Queen’s.

 

Purple Petals was the name of the shop.

 

With spring just around the corner, flowers blooming, pollen floating all about, they had more flower arrangements outside on display nearly filling the sidewalk as Seulgi carefully weaves by them, trying not to somehow mess anything up.

 

Then through the window of the door, she catches a glimpse of the inside. The sight made her pause--only for a moment--but she continued on, walking home to her apartment.

 

Just the same.

 

//

 

Another hour, another latte served. Another cappuccino made. Another americano ordered. Another day. And soon, one hour becomes two then three--on and on.

 

She unties the knot of her apron. Hangs it on an empty hook next to the door. Four o'clock on the dot. Her feet ache with each step. You’d think after years of working, she’d be used to all the standing. Unfortunately, it was not so.

 

“Any cool plans tonight, Seulgi? Or just heading home?” Yeri, her coworker, asks as she wipes down a table.

 

“Heading home. You know me,” she shrugs with a tired look on her face.

 

“Lazy as ever?”

 

“Exactly,” Seulgi smiles.

 

She waves goodbye and heads out the door. Her hands search for the earphones bundled deep within her pockets when a loud thumping catches her attention. Like dominos falling over. One thump followed by another until it stops. She her head, walks over to Purple Petals and peeks through the window of the door.

 

A couple of orange plastic pots lie scattered across the floor in disarray. The source of noise, Seulgi assumed. Then in the middle, kneeling on the floor, was a girl trying to pick them all up. But the way she did it was... odd. Her hands crawled along the floor, feeling before reaching out to get the pot instead of just, well, getting them.

 

Seulgi opens the door and walks in, immediately collecting the pots within reach, stacking them in a neat fashion until all were gathered. She steps closer to the girl.

 

“Here you go. Thought you could use some help.”

 

The girl stops her searching. She stands and dusts her apron off.

 

“Oh, thank you. Is that all of them?” She asks. Not so much as glancing Seulgi’s way.

 

It was an odd question.

 

“Yes, it’s all of them.”

 

She then turns to take the pots. Her fingers gently brushing Seulgi’s until the latter lets go.

 

“Thank you.”

 

But Seulgi doesn’t respond. Her jaw hangs open, utterly astonished. Seconds pass by without a word.

 

“I can tell you’re staring,” the girl tilts her head. “Is there something you need?”

 

“N-no, it’s just--”

 

The girl’s eyes. They were glazed over as if a mist covered them. No light. Not even a flicker. Her gaze wandered, looking at Seulgi but not quite. Unknown and unable to pinpoint. Seulgi draws a small breath.

 

“You’re…”

 

“I’m blind,” she smiles.

 

Insensitive was an understatement as to how Seulgi felt.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare or anything,” she quickly apologizes.

 

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m used to it already. What’s your name?” she asks, walking to the counter in the back. With exactly ten steps, she stops and in full confidence places the pots down on top of the counter without missing a beat.

 

“Seulgi.”

 

She turns around. Tucks a hair behind her ear. Eyes looking forward--past Seulgi not at her. As if she were transparent. The girl really couldn’t see her. And for some reason, Seulgi felt her heart drop.

 

“Nice to meet you, Seulgi. I’m Irene,” she grins. “Did you need to buy anything by chance?”

 

How?

 

Was the smile on her face real, Seulgi wonders.

 

“No. Not today.”

 

“Well then, thanks for helping me out, Seulgi. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

 

//

 

The television drones on. Some kind of drama played on the screen. The main female character was speaking in a rushed voice, emotion pulling at her words but they fell deaf to Seulgi’s ears. Seulgi sat on the edge of her couch, picking at what was left of her dinner. Chinese takeout for the third time this week.

 

Irene. She couldn’t stop thinking about her.

 

What was it like to be blind? Everything she does, every aspect of her life, was so reliant on sight. Seulgi could only imagine how it was to live without seeing.

 

Impossible.

 

For the first time in the past two hours, Seulgi stands and makes her way to the kitchen, throwing away her takeout boxes. She yawns as she goes back to the living room but pauses midway. The question, yet again, invades her mind.

 

What was it like to be blind?

 

Seulgi’s hands cover her eyes, eclipsing her vision. Darkness sets in. And she takes a breath. Down the hall leading into the living room was the faint mumbling of her television. Weak buzzing came from the lights above her head. Sirens wailed outside her window on the streets below. Seulgi takes another breath.

 

Two small steps forward and already, she’s unsure.

 

Her left foot reaches a couple inches out, sweeping back and forth. Safe. She takes another step. Now, her right foot goes out.

 

Every move is full of hesitation. As if she were walking into the abyss. It’s only a hallway. How much more if it was a city street? A mall? The park? How much more afraid, would she--

 

“Ow!”

 

Her leg hits the hallway cabinet and Seulgi finally opens her eyes, clutching her knee.

 

A new question arises.

 

How painful was it to be blind?

 

//

 

She tried to proceed through the day as usual. Keyword being “tried”. But there’s an incessant whispering in her head that just won’t leave her alone. Knocking in her skull. Over and over again. It finally silences when she stands outside the door, peering through the same window again at the foot of Purple Petals.

 

Her fingers play at the hem of her shirt. She should just go home. She had no business here. None at all. So why does she open the door and step inside?

 

The little bell above her rings.

 

At the counter in the back, Irene handed her customer a bouquet. An arrangement of purple and pink flowers, big and beautiful, presented with a silk ribbon and plastic to hold it all together.

 

“Thanks so much, Irene,” the man said, looking over the bouquet. “It’s perfect.”

 

“No problem,” she smiled. She seemed to do a lot of that--smiling. “Tell Joy I said Happy Anniversary.”

 

“Of course, I’ll catch you later then. Looks like you have another customer.”

 

He nodded at Seulgi as he passed her and left the shop.

 

“Hello, may I help you?” Irene asked.

 

“I, uh, just wanted to drop by and say hi,” Seulgi scratched the back of her head, embarrassed. Not like Irene could see the look on her face, but still. What was she doing here? Her fingers drummed the counter as she finally reached it. “It’s me, Seulgi-- I, uh, don’t know if you remember or--I was just--uh, yeah. Hi.”

 

Seulgi pinched the bridge of her nose from the disastrous word jumble that fell from . Talking was easy--usually. Working at a cafe , you’re bound to obtain a good level of social skills. Keeping up small talk, sending out smiles, cracking a small joke every now and then just to brighten the mood of a customer--saying hi. But somehow, she managed to fumble that.

 

“I remember. Hi to you too, Seulgi,” Irene giggled. Then, her nose twitched. “Seulgi, do you happen to work in a coffee shop of some sort? Or do you have an extreme love for drinking coffee?”

 

Seulgi blinked, wide-eyed, “Actually, yeah, I work at the cafe next door--”

 

“Queen’s Cafe,” They said in unison.

 

“I know the place.”

 

Seulgi’s nerves began to settle down.

 

“How come I’ve never seen you drop by?”

 

“Not a big fan of coffee,” Irene confessed, combing her fingers through her hair. Long dark locks falling back to frame her pale and unblemished face, the stark contrast of color emphasizing the fairness of her skin.

 

Only now did Seulgi notice the beauty before her.

 

Tiny frame. Dark hair reaching down to her waist. Perfect, delicate skin. If Seulgi didn’t know any better, Irene might as well have been a porcelain doll.

 

“Ah, okay,” Seulgi managed to reply amidst all her gawking. Hopefully, Irene didn’t realize her staring again.

 

“And you?” Irene folds her hands together on the counter. She blinks, her pupils reminiscent of clouded glass. “You work right next door and you’ve never been in here until yesterday.”

 

True.

 

“Not a big fan of flowers,” Seulgi sighed, more relaxed now. “That and I don’t attend many celebrations that require flowers. And if I bought some for myself, well, I probably wouldn’t do a good job taking care of them either.”

 

So, much like Irene, she had no purpose or desire to visit.

 

“I see,” Irene hums. “So then what brings you here today, Seulgi?”

 

No desire until now, that is.

 

“I…” She begins, feeling the twisting and turning at the pit of her stomach. The question that’d been nagging her before she even entered the shop--once again, it whispers to her. Just what was she doing here? The answer, she realizes, is quite simple. “I wanted to talk.”

 

Irene’s brows slightly furrow together. Taken aback somewhat.

 

“About what?” she asks.

 

“About you,” Seulgi confesses in a heartbeat. Afraid that she might choke on her words in the next second.

 

“About me?”

 

Surprise and disbelief could be heard in her voice. Seulgi could feel herself shrinking from the reaction. Perhaps, this wasn’t a good idea.

 

“Unless, I’m bothering you? Or you’d rather I leave?”

 

But all Irene did was smile.

 

“No. Stay. Talk to me.”

 

//

 

For the next few days, Seulgi visited Purple Petals for a few hours. All for the sake of talking to the beautiful blind girl of the flower shop. Irene Bae was her full name. Turns out she was a few years older than Seulgi, though it was hard to tell by appearance. But from the way she spoke, how she acted--careful words and mindful gestures--her mind and personality were that of someone mature beyond her years. Experience tended to age people. Seulgi could only fathom what Irene had gone through all her life.

 

Irene’s lived in this city a few years more than Seulgi. She runs the flower shop with her best friend Wendy, the owner. When Irene told her this, Seulgi gasped in awe. It was stupid, she knows. Perhaps even rude and naive to be so fascinated in how Irene could live normally. Having a place in the city. Working in a store. Seulgi didn’t mean to underestimate her capabilities. Not at all. She was just genuinely amazed.

 

Seulgi, of course, apologized for her reaction. But it’s apparent that Irene is quite used to it as she shakes her head, reassuring Seulgi that she was not the least bit offended.

 

“Life is harder but not impossible,” Irene smiles.

 

At Purple Petals, every flower is named. What she cannot see, she feels and smells. Braille labels every pot. She knows exactly which flower is which. Their smells may not be distinguishable to everyone but they are to her.

 

She knows.

 

What she lost in sight, she gained in all her other senses. The absence of one doesn’t bring her down. As she’s said before, it simply makes things harder. Some tasks may be a hindrance. She requires more time and patience than others. But it doesn’t keep her from living. She refuses to exist hopelessly.

 

And it’s her resolve and spirit that leaves Seulgi stunned and captivated.

 

“You’re pretty amazing, Irene.”

 

“Me? Amazing?” Irene laughs from the serious tone of Seulgi’s voice. She must have found her remark a bit ridiculous. “I’m really not, Seulgi.”

 

The barista shakes her head.

 

“To me, you are,” she says, speaking nothing but the truth.

 

Before she knew it, Seulgi was visiting the shop every day on her way home.

 

//

 

“You seem to be in a rush these days,” Seulgi notes as she finishes making the usual Americano.

 

Jackson, panting for air, takes a seat at the counter. Sweat veiled his forehead and with the edge of his sleeve, he sloppily wiped it away. Every day he was more unkempt than the morning before. Messy hair. Ruffled clothes. Yesterday, he didn’t even have his shoes on properly, tying them as he came into the shop.

 

Seulgi passes him a paper bag containing his blueberry muffin, assuming, of course, that he was ready to bolt out the door the next second. To her surprise, he took out the muffin and began to eat it.

 

“No meeting this morning?” she asks, placing a couple of napkins in front of him to wipe the crumbs from his lips.

 

Jackson gives a small nod in thanks. Takes a drink of his coffee and then another bite. He sinks further into his seat and chews in thought. Deeply so, from what Seulgi could tell. Finally, he swallows and a rather loud sigh breaks free from his lips.

 

“It got cancelled last minute. Can you believe it?” he scoffs, irritation evident in the tone of his voice. “I got ready and drove over here as fast as I could only to find out--just two minutes before I walk in here--that I could’ve taken my sweet time.”

 

He gobbles down the rest of his muffin as if to eat his stress away.

 

“Relax,” Seulgi tells him, worried he might choke. “Breathe.”

 

Jackson hits his chest, closes his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee again. He coughs once he’s done and inhales sharply. For a moment, he sits there pondering and Seulgi begins to see just how haggard Jackson was. The way his shoulders slumped, ready to collapse, and the eyebags that started to form, giving him raccoon eyes. She suspects the cause is work but was that the only thing? It could be more. Usually, it was always more. Most of the time though, it was life in general.

 

He picks up a napkin and roughly wipes his mouth clean. A look of contemplation hardens his face. Jaw set hard and eyes boring holes into the counter. Then, for what Seulgi swears is the third time in five minutes, Jackson sighs.

 

“Can I have another muffin?” he asks.

 

“Sure,” Seulgi picks another muffin from the glass display case of baked goods and pastries. This time she hands it to him on a small dish. “Don’t worry about paying this time. It’s on the house.”

 

Jackson smiles at her and nods before munching down on his second muffin.

 

It was the least she could do and maybe, it could make his day a little better despite having just started.

 

“So, I’m guessing work’s been a little hectic lately?”

 

Jackson scoffs in the midst of chewing, small specks fall from his lips, “You have no idea. Coming here every morning is the only peaceful part of my day.”

 

Peaceful. It was a good way of describing day in and day out at Queen’s Cafe. A sentiment Seulgi easily agreed with.

 

“How about you?” Jackson asks. “Same as usual?”

 

She smiles.

 

“More or less.”

 

 

//

 

The door nearly flies open and above it the tiny bell gives a harsh chime as Seulgi rushes towards the counter at the back. At the same time, Irene emerges from the other corner carrying a pot of tulips and sets it down near the register.

 

“There you are,” she says. “You’re late.”

 

An hour late to be exact. The barista ruffles her hair bashfully.

 

“Yeah, had to help out at the cafe a little longer. Got busy all of a sudden.”

 

“Almost thought you didn’t want to see me today,” Irene teases with a small grin.

 

During the first few days that Seulgi began to visit, Irene would always ask the same question. What are you doing here today? The answer of course was always the same as well. To see you. She laughed at that. Somehow, it was funny. Though more likely, she didn’t believe it. But as the days passed by, Irene became slowly convinced every time Seulgi walked through the door.

 

“I always come here to see you,” Seulgi replies.

 

A small nod. A tiny smile. And quiet eyes like glass filled with the unknown. Irene admits, “Indeed you do.”

 

Her fingers play near the base of the pot. Probably reading the braille, Seulgi thought. Slowly, her right hand trails upward, knuckles brushing against plastic and then against the long flower stems. She follows it all the way to the top. Rubs the petals between her thumb and index finger two or three times. She feels another petal. Then, one more. Seulgi watches, captivated by the gentleness of Irene’s motions.

 

When she was done, Irene moved the pot farther down the counter and attached a small card to it. Ready for whatever customer was supposed to pick it up. Underneath the register, she cleanses her hands with hand sanitizer.

 

“So, how’d you know it was me?” Seulgi suddenly asks.

 

Irene pauses. A tiny wrinkle forms between her brows and she pouts, not quite understanding.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, I didn’t show up at the same time I normally do. You probably suspected I might have went home. For all you know, it could’ve been a customer who walked through the door and not me,” Seulgi explains, drumming her fingers on the countertop. “So, how’d you know before I even said anything?”

 

Outside, sirens blare. A flash of red and blue lights zoom by, briefly illuminating the streets and shining through the windows of nearby shops. Seulgi glances outside from the corner of her eye but the cops were gone as fast as they came. The city was a bit nosier today, it seemed. Childlike giggles bring her eyes back forward to a smiling Irene.

 

“You really like asking questions, huh? Well, the answer’s easy,” the blind girl shrugs and runs her fingers through her hair, sweeping it away from her face. “It’s because I’ve gotten to know you, Seulgi.”

 

And the barista scratches her chin as she mulled over the answer. Somehow, sensing her confusion, Irene leans on the counter, just a bit closer to where Seulgi stood on the other side. Her hands reach out. Tiny, dainty fingers seeking to touch.

 

“Here, come closer,” she waves for Seulgi to approach. The latter inches forward until she can smell a mix of strawberries and fabric softener, the scent of Irene. She breathes it in.

 

Being so near and face to face, Seulgi can’t help but stare. From Irene’s red lips to her perfectly shaped cheeks and then up to her eyes. Clouded. Misty. Seulgi lingers there, gazing into a hazy void to which she could not see into and Irene could not see past.

 

The light brush of fingertips against her jaw startles her. They stop.

 

“May I?” Irene asks, hands waiting.

 

Seulgi swallows.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Gently, she cradles Seulgi’s face. Thumbs caressing her cheeks. Fingers tracing from her ear then down along her jawline.

 

“What I meant was, it’s the little things that are enough to tell me it’s you,” Irene explains. “The bitter smell of coffee that lingers on your clothes mixed with the scent of shampoo in your hair.”

 

She lightly touches the softness of Seulgi’s lips. How her smile reaches from one end to the other. She moves upward, fingers feeling the shape of her nose.

 

“The light footsteps you take as you walk. Quick and nimble.”

 

Irene’s fingers crawl higher and Seulgi finds herself holding her breath. Heat rising past her neck. She closes her eyes and Irene gently smooths her thumbs over her eyelids.

 

“And if you’re close enough, even the way you breathe.”

 

Irene traced all the contours of Seulgi’s face, mapping it in her mind. Her hands fall to the counter, finished. And Seulgi opened her eyes again and drew a deep breath as if she had been suffocating the entire time.

 

“That’s how you know?” Seulgi asks, relaxing her shoulders. Not realizing how tense they were.

 

“That’s how I know. And for many other reasons too,” Irene grins. “But like I said, it’s mostly the little things that I’ve learned about you.”

 

She pulls herself off the counter, standing up straight.

 

“And now there’s one more thing I learned,” Irene says, her grin widening. “I can’t see what you look like, Seulgi--not exactly--but as far as I can tell, you’re pretty cute.”

 

//

 

To Seulgi’s surprise, Irene wasn’t born blind. As a child, she suffered from rapidly deteriorating eyesight due to juvenile cataracts. Then, by the time she was 8 years old, she was fully blind. She remembered it well. How all the colors faded. How hard she tried to keep everyone's faces in her memories--mom, dad, friends. How she had to learn to listen and feel more. But most of all, how lost and alone it felt when the world was stripped away from her.

 

The little girl who went blind.

 

That’s what the mothers in their neighborhood called her. It’s what the kids at school whispered to each other. It’s what everyone tried to avoid saying in front of her as if the blatantly obvious fact would hurt her because suddenly, she was fragile.

 

Pity was constantly laced within their voices. Words always spoken ever so gently. And they danced around her like she was made of glass.

 

It saddened her. It infuriated her.

 

“Wasn’t wallowing in my own self-pity enough?”

 

Seulgi wasn’t sure how to answer Irene’s question. But she learned that fragile was a word Irene didn’t very much like. Whether because it was true or because it was a lie, she couldn’t tell for certain. All she knew, was that those times had hurt Irene but she was stronger for it now. Still, Seulgi’s heart couldn’t help but ache for the little girl who went blind. The world was snatched away too soon.

 

//

 

Seulgi made quick work of cleaning off the counter where a customer had just finished eating. She tossed the scraps away, pushed in the stool, and headed towards the back, hanging her apron up. Today was much slower. Which she didn’t really mind. Only that it meant less work and in turn, time passed by slowly as a result. And that was always annoying. But Seulgi simply sighed, relieved that her shift was finally over. She grabbed her backpack and walked towards the front door, ready to leave when Yeri called out to her.

 

“Going next door?”

 

Seulgi stops mid-step and slightly turns her body, blinking at Yeri who was cleaning off one of the tables in the corner.

 

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

 

Yeri realigned the chairs and gave it one last glance over, ensuring everything was clean and back in place. Then, she moved onto the next table and began to wipe it down.

 

“I’ve you seen in there before going home,” Yeri said without looking up. “You’ve been staying there pretty late.”

 

It was an unasked question delivered as a statement. Though, the hint of curiosity in her tone was impossible to miss.

 

“I made a new friend there,” Seulgi explained as she walked over and pointed at a missed smudge. Yeri thanked her and then scrubbed it vigorously.

 

“Irene, I’m guessing.”

 

“You know her?” Seulgi asks, surprised.

 

Yeri stood straight with both hands on her hips. She arched her back, stretching. A satisfying hiss left her lips. Leaning over so long to clean tables gave you all kinds of knots and aches. Yeri rolled her neck and sighed from the slight relief.

 

“I buy flowers there from time to time. She’s very nice.”

 

Seulgi arched a brow.

 

“Didn’t know you were into flowers?”

 

Yeri mirrored her expression.

 

“Didn’t know you went to other places besides work and home?” she teased.

 

Seulgi playfully pushed her and they both laughed.

 

//

 

There was an unfamiliar face when Seulgi walked into Purple Petals. From a distance, she seemed to be around Irene’s size. Short and petite. Her hair was hazelnut brown. Much lighter in comparison to Irene’s ebony locks. Seulgi glanced around, hoping she’d catch sight of her friend somewhere in the corner tending to some pot of flowers. With quiet footsteps, she approached the counter cautiously as she continued to search for Irene. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be around.

 

“Hello!”

 

Seulgi jumped. For someone so small, this girl had a rather loud voice. The mysterious girl walked over with such a spring in her step, one might have thought she was skipping. She flashed Seulgi a toothy smile accompanied with sparkling big brown eyes.

 

“Welcome to Purple Petals!” she exclaimed with amazing enthusiasm. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

 

“Actually, I was looking for someone,” Seulgi scratches her cheek. “Is Irene around?”

 

Almost instantly, the girl’s expression darkened. Her smile fell and she glowered at Seulgi suspiciously.

 

“And exactly who are you?”

 

Right. Perhaps it would have been better if she introduced herself first. Seulgi chuckled nervously as she felt the girl’s eyes examine her from head to toe. She cleared .

 

“My name’s Seulgi, I’m--”

 

“Oh my god, you’re Seulgi?!”

 

The barista flinched from the girl’s booming voice. At this rate, she was going to get whiplash from her instant mood switches. She smiled and nodded, not quite sure what the excitement was about.

 

“Yeah. That’s me.”

 

“You should have said that from the beginning!”

 

The girl steps closer and grabs Seulgi’s hand, pulling it into a firm handshake. For possibly the third time in the span of five minutes, Seulgi is surprised yet again. Not only by how loud this girl was but also how straight-forward and bold she seemed to be.

 

“Nice to finally meet you, Seulgi! I’m Wendy, owner of Purple Petals.”

 

The realization hits her.

 

“Wendy--you’re Irene’s best friend, right?”

 

“I am and don’t worry, Irene is just out running an errand. But wow, she wasn’t lying!” Wendy exclaimed as she pulled away from Seulgi and placed both hands on her hips. “You really do visit every day, huh?”

 

Just as Seulgi’s about to speak, a tiny bell rings. Quietly, the front door opens. Both girls turn their heads and within the frame, Irene stood carrying two plastic bags in one hand and a white cane in the other. She moves her head a bit and then smiles the same she always did when she noticed Seulgi’s presence.

 

“Guess you two have finally met.”

 

//

 

Seulgi stayed a little longer this time, listening to all the stories Wendy had to tell from years ago.

 

Wendy and Irene have known each other for the longest time. Longer than Seulgi’s managed to know anyone. They met in middle school. Irene was wandering the halls and seemed to have gotten lost on her way to class. Wendy, on the other hand, had just moved from Canada and was a new transfer student who also seemed to have gotten lost on her way to class. Funny thing was they managed to find each other and coincidentally, were looking for the same room.

 

It was a decent middle school but the people there weren’t too kind. At least, not the way Wendy had described them. For one thing, their peers hardly referred to them by name. No, they preferred calling them something else.

 

The blind girl and the foreigner.

 

A title by which Irene was quite used to by that point in her life and a title Wendy couldn’t care less of simply because it was true. But it was the discrimination associated with those titles that irked them. Irene was constantly underestimated and belittled for her impairment. While Wendy was teased daily for her thick accent and lack of cultural knowledge.

 

“It was a bit depressing”, Wendy admitted. New country. New people. She didn’t know anyone and they barely gave her a chance. Irene kept quiet as Wendy explained but as far as Seulgi could tell, Irene also found it disappointing. But the indifferent look on her face said that she expected it. After all, from what

she’s told Seulgi, she was quite used to it.

 

It was a time in which they both experienced ignorance and unkindness. But it was during that time that they became friends and all they had was each other. And ever since then, they’d been inseparable.

 

If there was anything to be thankful for at that time, Seulgi was thankful that Irene had met Wendy. She only wished, she too could have met Irene sooner. Then maybe, she could have made things better? How, she doesn’t know. It’s a stupid thought, thinking that meeting sooner could have made Irene’s life better but…

 

No.

 

She stopped her train of thought.

 

There was nothing she could do about the past. But in the here and now, that’s what mattered. So she decided that from now on, she would also be there for Irene.

 

//

 

He runs in like a tornado and almost everyone turned their heads. Quick and chaotic. Bedhead evident. One arm through his blazer, haphazardly worn. Shirt untucked. And shoes barely on. Jackson slams the exact amount of change on the counter and grabs his coffee and muffin that Seulgi had prepared for him in advance.

 

“Thanks, Seulgi! You’re the best!” he shouted, nearly breathless, turning swiftly on his heel.

 

These days, time was something he just didn’t have but Jackson still stopped by. And Seulgi did her part in making things easier for him, laying out his usual order for whenever he came sprinting in. It was the least she could do.

 

“No problem--watch out!” Seulgi yelled.

 

Another customer entered the cafe, nearly colliding with Jackson who managed to sidestep to the left and avoid contact. He gives a tiny wave of thanks to Seulgi for the warning, as much as his occupied hands would allow, and then bolted out the door.

 

Chatter resumed among the other customers sitting at the tables and counter, now that the tornado had come and gone. Yeri walked up to Seulgi, eyes still fixated on the entrance.

 

“Wow, what’s been up with him lately?” she asks.

 

“From what I could tell last time he actually sat down to eat, it seemed to be work,” Seulgi explained as she picked the cash up from the counter and tucked it into the register. “But your guess is as good mine.”

 

“Well, I hope he gets a break soon.”

 

“Me too.”

 

 

//

 

On most days, Wendy worked the morning shift. Generally until noon when Irene would come in and she would then proceed to run errands for the rest of the day. It explained why they hadn’t met till recently and also how Seulgi hadn’t seen her since then. But it’d only been a few days. Besides, what mattered was Irene was here. That’s who she wanted to see most, after all. Or rather, the entire reason why she even came to Purple Petals in the first place.

 

Seulgi sat on a stool by the counter. After enough visits, Irene had put it there for her. She smiled at the thought of her own personal spot. Its legs creaked beneath Seulgi’s weight as she swayed slightly from side to side, keenly watching Irene as she tended to the flowers.

 

She stood between two shelves filled with pots among pots of flowers across from where Seulgi sat. All of different colors, shapes, and sizes. Her hands scanned the pots, fingers running over the braille. Looking. A customer called in for a specific flower, Irene had told her. She frowned and moved onto the next, continuing her search.

 

Her movements were quiet and carried an odd grace. It was something Seulgi had begun to notice more and more. How her head stayed still, looking stiffly forward as her arms moved, hands sensing and detecting. And when she walked in the shop, she walked carefully. Slow steps. Quiet steps. But with each one, she seemed to know exactly where she was. She exuded a silent assurance accompanied with incredible composure at which one couldn’t help but be mesmerized.

 

“Seulgi?”

 

“Yes,” she answered a little too quickly, afraid that Irene might have noticed her intense staring.

 

“Could you help me out for a second?” Irene asked, standing on her toes, barely brushing the braille of the pot on the topmost shelf. “I don’t want to have to get the step ladder.”

 

Seulgi hopped off the stool and jogged to Irene’s side. The latter stepped back and as she did, Seulgi noticed something but quickly put the thought aside. The barista easily picked the pot off the shelf and faced the braille label towards Irene. Her fingers ran over it.

 

“So is it the one they wanted?”

 

Irene smiled, “Yes. Mind putting it on the counter for me?”

 

“Sure.”

 

They walked over to the counter together. Seulgi trailed after Irene, watching her as she walked, eyes fixated on the blind girl’s right shoulder. Her brows began to wrinkle together. Irene gingerly patted an empty space near the center of the counter and Seulgi set the pot down just as instructed. Then, as Irene continued her preparations, Seulgi leaned on the counter, observing with folded hands and twiddling thumbs. Brows still wrinkled together and teeth biting down on her bottom lip. Irene paused and turned towards Seulgi’s direction.

 

“You want to ask me something, don’t you?” she said as a matter-of-factly.

 

Seulgi stiffened. She hadn’t said a word.

 

“How do you--right.”

 

Because Irene knew her.

 

The smallest things never escaped her. It was both unusual and perplexing how perceptive she was. All without eyes as well. Seulgi sat upright, not exactly sure what gave her away but there was no point in lying and telling Irene she was wrong. Besides, there was no doubt in her mind that Irene could discern whether she was truthful or not.

 

“Well,” Irene speaks, voice gentle and welcoming, “why don’t you ask me?”

 

A low hum rested at the base of Seulgi’s throat. A part of her wanted to indulge her curiosity, there was no denying it. But the other part of her thought it was better to simply ignore the urge, afraid she may touch on something sensitive.

 

“I’m not sure if I should. Might be better if I didn’t.”

 

Irene seemed surprised.

 

“Oh? That’s not very like you. You always ask. Are you suddenly shy?” she chuckled. Her right hand reached out, fingers dancing along the countertop until she found Seulgi’s folded hands and softly squeezed her thumbs. She was warm. “Just go ahead. I always answer, don’t I?”

 

Hesitation. Seulgi looked downward at Irene’s fingers and how they wrapped around her own. How tiny they were. Perfect, gentle, and soft. There was the sudden urge to hold Irene’s tiny hand within hers. Feel the delicate bones, her teeny knuckles, caress her skin. But she withheld and gazed up at Irene’s vacant eyes. Milky white.

 

“The scar on your shoulder,” Seulgi began, barely speaking over a whisper. “The one close to your neck. How’d you get it?”

 

It was but a split second when she saw it. As Irene moved over for Seulgi to get the pot earlier. Her hair fell away from her shoulder and Seulgi caught sight of a silver-lined scar starting at the bottom right side of her neck continuing to her shoulder, most of it concealed by her shirt. But there was no mistaking what she saw.

 

One could only guess how she got it. And the first thoughts that came to Seulgi’s mind weren’t pleasant.

 

“Ah, you saw that?”

 

Unconsciously, Irene’s left hand touches the base of her neck, tracing the silver line along her skin.

 

“I was clumsy,” she said. “When I was younger, There was this jewelry box I kept high on top of my dresser. I didn’t want to ask for help. I was newly blind but I remembered well enough where it was so why not get it myself? Unfortunately, I was a bit too careless and when I tried to grab it, the jewelry box ended up falling on me. The corner jabbed me here,” she tapped the scar. “My mom was pretty angry that I ended up hurting myself.” A faint laugh escaped her, recalling the memory.

 

“What was in the jewelry box?” Seulgi immediately asked.

 

“Some money I hid away. There was something I really wanted to buy at the time, I think...”

 

Irene thought to herself. Trying to remember, wondering what it could have possibly been that she wanted. But Seulgi was wondering something else entirely.

 

“Do you have any other scars?”

 

It was just for a moment but there was a slight bit of hesitation before Irene spoke. Her lips barely parting and then closing again.

 

“Many more,” she simply said, voice as still as can be.

 

But there, something hid. Seulgi was certain. Her eyes narrowed.

 

“All from falling objects?”

 

“No,” Irene smiled faintly. “Some scars run deeper than skin.”

 

And there it was.

 

She pulls her hand away from where it rested on top of Seulgi’s and resumes her work. Preparing the flowers, she begins to hum an unfamiliar song. Silence overcomes Seulgi, eyes falling to her hands where she could still feel the lingering warmth of Irene’s touch. It soon went cold.

 

There was nothing she could say.

 

//

 

“Still going there, huh?” Yeri asks. Once again, stopping Seulgi as she was about to leave.

 

Seulgi takes a few steps back to the table in the corner where Yeri was sitting, sipping her smoothie as she enjoyed her break.

 

“Of course.”

 

Yeri played with the straw. Mixing and churning the remainder of her drink. Her lips pursed together.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you guys meet? You never even visited their shop before all of this.”

 

“I did one time,” Seulgi corrected her.

 

“Oh?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

 

Seulgi could feel Yeri’s sharp-eyed gaze. For what reason she was acting that way, Seulgi wasn’t sure. But the girl was paying especially close attention to her as of late. It was peculiar. Then again, Yeri had always been an odd girl. Still, Seulgi couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

 

“I heard some kind of crashing sound when I was passing by the shop. Irene dropped a bunch of plastic pots and I helped her,” Seulgi shrugged. “Then, we just started talking and I kept on visiting.”

 

Yeri took another sip of her smoothie.

 

“I see,” she muttered, straw still pressed against her lips.

 

Seulgi cocked her head to the side.

 

“Why are you asking?”

 

This time, Yeri was the one who shrugged, “I was just wondering. Anyways, you should probably go now. Don’t want to keep Irene waiting, right?”

 

//

 

The day moved at a snail’s pace. Both for Seulgi and Irene. Not as many coffees were served or pastries prepared compared to a typical day at Queen’s Cafe. And at Purple Petals, Wendy had already handled all the pickups. Irene simply spent her time caring for the flowers and plants in the early afternoon, assisted three customers that walked in for inquiries, and then waited until Seulgi finally came in.

 

Time was dragging. So much so, Seulgi had the urge to yawn every other minute. She could only imagine how Irene felt as she had three more hours to suffer through before she could close up shop. The barista on the other hand could leave at any point she wished. Go home. Watch television. Browse the internet. Laze around and relax. But no, she wouldn’t leave Irene to endure the painstakingly boring hours that seemed to have occupied both of their days.

 

Or perhaps, Irene liked how slow it was? Her expression was as serene as ever. Seulgi did her best to entertain but there was just something about today that made her weary.

 

Ah, that’s right.

 

The first days of summer. That had to be it. All the sun and heat. Fun at the beach. Amusement parks. Road trips. Of course no one was around, they were all out.

 

Seulgi was never quite fond of summer. Rather than give her energy, it seemed to drain it all away. She pressed her forehead against the cool marble surface of the counter and sighed. Deep and heavy.

 

“Why is it so hot already? And why am I so tired?”

 

Irene giggled at her childish complaining.

 

“I take it you’re not quite fond of the heat?”

 

“Not this much heat,” Seulgi groaned, clearly emphasizing her dislike. “It should just rain. That would be so much better.”

 

“Oh? Interesting.”

 

The florist drummed her fingers on the counter about a foot away from where Seulgi’s head laid. She could feel the vibrations. Tapping. Tapping. Tapping. A sort of astonished smile crept upon Irene’s lips.

 

“Not many people I know like the rain very much. Too depressing they say. This is the kind of weather they love.”

 

Seulgi turned her head. A slight shiver runs through her as her right cheek touches the cold marble. She gazes up at Irene.

 

“I assume one of those people is Wendy.”

 

She chuckled and nodded her head.

 

“Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

 

They laughed. Seulgi slowly blinked, eyelids getting heavier and heavier. The heat was really tiring her out. And this time when her eyes closed, she didn’t bother fighting it. Her and summer just didn’t mix well together.

 

It would take but only a few minutes for her to fall asleep. She could feel herself sinking. All the sounds fading. And then, Joohyun poked her on the nose and she was awake again. A faint giggle escaped Irene. She must have known. Somehow. As she always did.

 

“So, why the rain?” she asks.

 

Seulgi sat up, afraid she might fall asleep again and rested her elbow on the counter, right hand supporting her chin. She struggled to resist but a yawn broke free and her eyes teared a bit.

 

“I just like listening to the sound of rainfall, I guess,” Seulgi answered. Though it sounded more like a question to her ears. But it was the best reason she could come up with. There was just something oddly comforting about the rain. The pitter patter as it fell from the sky. How everything else seemed to quiet in its presence. “It’s relaxing.”

 

The smile on Irene’s face widened, exposing her teeth, scrunching her nose. It was the biggest smile Seulgi had ever seen from the girl.

 

“What?” Seulgi blurted, unable to control her own emerging grin. Fatigue instantly forgotten.

 

“Nothing,” Irene shook her head, giggling.

 

Nothing? As if the barista would believe that. Clearly, something amused Irene as she was oddly elated all of a sudden.

 

“Oh, come on,” Seulgi leaned forward on her elbows. “It has to be something.”

 

But the florist kept mum. Simply shaking her head, face still beaming. She leaned forward as well, folding her hands in front of her, knuckles brushing against Seulgi’s own. She was close and face-to-face.

 

The barista’s eyes wandered. Starting from Irene’s lips to her perfect teeth to the hair that drifted in front of her face and then lastly, to where everyone defined her.

 

There was no gleam to them. No color. They were just milky white glass that she could once view the world through. Eyes that could no longer see. Eyes you could not peer into. And yet, Seulgi was lost in them all the same.

 

“I have an idea,” Irene said. “Let’s play a game.”

 

--

 

It was a game of 20 questions in which they would take turns asking one another. By Irene’s rules, you had to answer. But if you didn’t want to then the other person was obligated to give you a hard flick to the forehead as punishment. At first, Seulgi didn’t take it seriously. She thought the florist was kidding. She was wrong.

 

“Why do you stare so much?”

 

Seulgi coughed from the sudden question and felt her face burn up.

 

“W-What?” she stuttered. Failing to mask her embarrassment.

 

“I may not say anything but I do feel you staring at me quite often, Seulgi,” Irene grinned teasingly. “Or am I wrong?”

 

opened and closed repeatedly, attempting to say something in her defense but nothing came out. Eventually, all she could muster to say was, “I, uh, don’t know what--”

 

There was a quick snapping sound and Seulgi yelped, rubbing the sore spot on her forehead. Irene threw her head back and laughed mischievously, satisfied with the reaction. The girl was lot more childish than Seulgi realized.

 

“You actually flicked me,” Seulgi complained.

 

“Of course,” Irene said, controlling her laughter. She extended her hand forward. Touched Seulgi’s cheek and, following the map in her mind, found Seulgi’s forehead and patted it apologetically. “I told you the rules,” Irene smirked. “Your turn.”

 

The questions flew back and forth. Some answers were short. Others detailed and long drawn. They went on and on, long past 20 questions. And neither of them seemed to notice that the sun was already setting.

 

“Okay, how about this one,” Irene said excitedly as she clapped her hands together. “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

 

“Ooo, that’s a good question.”

 

For a moment, Seulgi silently deliberated. Tapping her finger against her lips, weighing all the many options in her mind. But truly, there was only one that appealed to her most.

 

“Well,” she began, “rather than directly having a superpower, I’d want a Green Lantern ring.”

 

Irene’s expression turned into one of confusion.

 

“Green Lantern ring? Sorry, I’m not too familiar with heroes or comic books.”

 

“Basically, it’s a ring that can make whatever you think of,” Seulgi explained, racking her mind as to how she could put it into better words. “So if you were to imagine a giant fist or something, it could make that,” She bit her lip. “The ring itself is, well, it’s green, and has this big round emblem, then in the center is like this lantern shape--how do I describe it…. Sorry, I’m not too good at putting it into words.”

 

Explanations, mental depictions, or descriptions were difficult. If she could simply draw it out or show Irene a picture it would be simpler. For articulating was something Seulgi was never good at.

 

The florist shook her head slightly.

 

“No, it’s fine. I can picture it,” Irene reassured. “So how does this ring work? How can it just make whatever you imagine?”

 

“Through willpower. That’s it’s power and it’s limit.”

 

And that was simply it.

 

“Willpower, huh?” Irene repeated in fascination. “I like it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, huh?”

 

“Exactly,” Seulgi smiled.

 

From the tone of her voice, Irene seemed to also get the attraction of the Green Lantern ring. It wasn’t really a superpower, especially when you compared it to abilities such as flying, teleporting, super speed, heat vision, etc. It was more like a tool, one that gave its wearer incredible and incomprehensible capabilities based on their willpower--determination and inner strength. It was you who made the ring. And there was great charm in that. Because willpower was something everyone had.

 

“So along with that,” Irene thought aloud, tilting her head to one side. Her dark hair fell across her face and she brushed it away absentmindedly, “if you had an incredible imagination then it sounds like you’re set.”

 

“Yup and as a somewhat artistic person, I think a ring like that would match me better than anything else.”

 

Irene’s expression changed into one of astonishment.

 

“You like art, Seulgi?” she asked as she rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Sinking a little lower to Seulgi’s eye level from how she slouched. “I didn’t know that.”

 

It wasn’t something Seulgi advertised about herself. Not anymore anyway. It was a hobby that stemmed from her childhood. From drawing on the walls, to scribbling on paper, painting on canvases and then so on and so on. But passion and time were always in conflict with real life problems and studying. Until little by little, she began to draw less, paint less--create art less. And so, it was never more than a hobby on the side. One that very few knew of.

 

“Yeah. Some drawing. Painting. Sculpting, too,” Seulgi replied as she stretched her arms outward and twisted in her seat, giving her back some relief. “Haven’t really made anything in awhile but art is definitely something I enjoy doing.”

 

“It suits you,” Irene smiled at her warmly. “I’d like to see some of your art one day.”

 

Seulgi’s arms fell quietly to her side and she felt a terrible tug at her chest. All she wanted to do was say yes.

 

And so she repeated with a nod, “One day.”

 

Promising, that somehow, it would come true.

 

//

 

Seulgi had learned a lot of things about Irene since the day they met. Many of which she never knew, might’ve assumed, or would have never guessed.

 

The girl loved scents. The kind that were like a light sweetness.

 

Her favorite flower were lilacs. Mostly because purple was her favorite color when she was younger.

 

She owned quite a collection of books in braille but an even bigger collection of audiobooks. Massive actually. Reading was something she had long loved.

 

When she was a little girl she owned a puppy for a while despite her fear of animals.

 

At the age of 17, she had her first kiss with her crush. Soon after though, she found out he wasn’t so great.

 

Her favorite kind of food was spicy--she absolutely loved spicy foods.

 

And the list kept going.

 

Seulgi pondered on the many things she came to know about Irene. Her doll-like appearance. The smooth tone of her voice, how soft and quiet it was but at the same time firm and resolute. The tenderness of her smile. Her openness to answer any question or share any opinion. All the while, remaining compassionate and kind. But what Seulgi knew most--what she could never forget--was the feeling of Irene’s touch upon her skin.

 

Then, it dawned on her and she remembered.

 

What Irene could not see, she felt.

 

She sprung from her bed, sheets flying in disarray. Morning sun shone through the blinds of her bedroom window. Seulgi grabbed some clothes, struggling to put them on as fast as she could. The clock in the corner read 7 am. The earliest she’d ever gotten out of bed on a weekend since who knows when. As she walked out the front door, she took her keys and wallet, then quickly dialed on her phone, pressing it to her ear. Waiting for an answer.

 

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind the unexpected visit.

 

//

 

The craftsmanship was a little rough but that was to be expected when she was without practice for the past two years. Hidden in her pocket, Seulgi rolled it between her fingers. She smiled. If there was at least one thing to be proud of, it was the diligent job she did sanding--smooth to the touch. But the emblem on the front was another story. Still, the piece turned out much better than anticipated. And in the end, although it was far from perfect, she was satisfied.

 

“Hey, Irene!” Seulgi called.

 

Seconds later, the girl emerged from the back of the shop. Wiping her hands clean on her apron as she approached, stopping inches short of the counter across from Seulgi.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Hold your hand out,” Seulgi said.

 

The florist paused. A quizzical look crept across her face as she put her open hand forward.

 

A faint wave of nervousness ran through Seulgi’s body. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt for quite some time. After all, she hadn’t created nor shown anyone her creations for quite some time. And oddly enough, it was a feeling she somewhat missed and that excited her.

 

Finally, she dropped the piece in Irene’s hand.

 

“What is it?” Irene asked, clasping it.

 

The barista bounced on her toes and grinned. Like a chef who had just presented their dish, she folded her hands behind her back, awaiting judgement.

 

“Check it out.”

 

Slowly, Irene rubbed the object in both of her hands, distinguishing its form. Her fingers pinched and brushed it. Round. Solid. Smooth. Her expression turned to one of wonder as her thumb lingered at the emblem and she caressed it over and over again.

 

“Is this… a Green Lantern ring?” she asked, marvelling at the object in her hands.

 

“Yep. I made it,” Seulgi nodded, happy that Irene recognized it. She scratched her cheek and added, “For you.”

 

“For me?” Irene repeated. Her face instantly lit up.

 

“You said you wanted to see my art,” Seulgi explained, recalling the promise she made to Irene. “Well, there it is. Drawing and painting aren’t the only things I know how to do. I’m pretty good at carving wood too.”

 

What Irene couldn’t see, she felt.

 

When the idea sprung into Seulgi’s mind she immediately made her way over to her Uncle’s place, just on the outskirts of the city. It was an understatement to say how surprised he was of her visit. Especially when she came waltzing in, requesting permission to use his workshop.

 

When she was little, during the summers when she would visit the city, she would stay at her Uncle’s. He was kind a man and had a passion for building. A true craftsman. He made all kinds of things from wood and metal. Chairs. Plaques. Rocking Horses. Doll houses. Seulgi was awestruck by all the different things he could create. Her eyes sparkled with wonder and fascination. Then eventually, she asked to learn. For him to teach her. And so he did.

 

And although it’d been years since she last visited, her hands remembered everything. She was out of practice, but nothing was forgotten.

 

“What do you think?” Seulgi asked.

 

“I think this is amazing!” Irene exclaimed. An adoring smile present on her lips. “And you made this from wood? I can’t believe it.”

 

She turned it over and over again between her fingers. Seulgi had taken a guess at Irene’s ring size, assuming it was slightly smaller than her own. And as Irene slipped it onto her left middle finger, it was pretty darn close. A bit bigger than perfect but still.

 

Irene extended her arm and formed a fist, showing off her wooden Green Lantern ring in all its glory. As if it were the real deal and she was its chosen bearer.

 

“How do I look?” she asked sweetly.

 

Seulgi’s eyes scanned her from head to toe and she couldn’t help but chuckle at her pose.

 

“Like a true superhero.”

 

Irene giggled like a child.

 

“Perfect.”

 

A few moments of silence fell over them. Irene brought her hand close to her chest and played with the ring, twisting it around on her finger and caressing the emblem with her thumb every so often. Seulgi knew the look on her face. She was thinking.

 

Her lips barely parted but then they closed. Again, a few seconds later, Irene looked as if she were about to speak only to tightly purse her lips once more. It was the first time Irene had hesitated so much to say something. Actually, no--it was the first time Seulgi had witnessed true hesitation from Irene. Ever.

 

Finally, in what was little more than a whisper, Irene spoke, “Will you make more for me?” She paused. “More wood carvings?”

 

And in less than a heartbeat, Seulgi answered.

 

“Of course.”

 

//

 

Seulgi didn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. After all, that would have made them meaningless. Words held weight. Promises even more so. This she believed wholeheartedly. And so, she did just as she had said.

 

She made more wood carvings.

 

They took time and effort especially with how meticulous Seulgi was. At first, it was a bit difficult getting back into the art of carving. Sure, she made the ring but that was simple. Everything else in her head was more complicated, more detailed. For the first few creations, she struggled. This much she admitted. But just like with riding a bike, you never truly forget. And soon, it all came rushing back to her.

 

How often did she go to her Uncle’s workshop? She doesn’t know. Honestly, it was hard to keep count. But Seulgi dropped in so frequently, the workshop was beginning to feel like a second home. During the weekdays she smelled of brewed coffee beans and pastries, on the weekends, it was sawdust, metal, and sweat.

 

She made coffee. She carved wood. Then, she made more coffee. And carved more wood. It had become routine.

 

Eventually, her Uncle insisted on lending her tools so that she could work at home. Whatever was useful and portable enough to carry, she took. She started to buy supplies and other tools she needed as well. Her apartment quickly became a mess. Sawdust and all different sized chips of wood littered the floor. Used sandpaper piled the trash. Tools and machinery took up both the living room and the kitchen. The only place that stayed relatively clean and untouched was her bedroom.

 

Seulgi made all kinds of things for Irene. But they weren’t just empty creations. No. Each carving came with a story. A horse--a tale from childhood. A miniature pirate’s chest--a dream she remembered. A replica of her lucky charm--something she loved.

 

All of this, she made for Irene. All of this, she shared.

 

Then, with every new carving Seulgi placed into Irene’s waiting hands, the girl held it gently and close to her chest. Feeling it. Knowing it. All the while, Seulgi told its tale and Irene smiled. She always smiled.

 

And so, Seulgi continued making more and more carvings. No longer just for the promise but for Irene. If it was for her, then that was all that mattered.

 

Because if you could give her pieces of your world, wouldn’t you?

 

For the little girl who went blind. For the florist who made her heart beat. Seulgi would.

 

She was starting to realize she would probably do almost anything.

 

//

 

“Why do you go there every day? Is it really just to talk?” Yeri asked all of a sudden.

 

Lunch rush had just ended and the cafe fell into a quiet lull with a few customers sipping and chatting. The rather peaceful atmosphere was an opportunity to rest and relax during work hours. And with Seulgi’s recently busy nights and weekends carving, she used every minute she could to her advantage. Leaning against the wall behind the counter, closing her eyes to rest for bit. Just a little. Maybe get five or ten minutes in. Until Yeri came and posed her question.

 

“Yeah,” Seulgi yawned as she peeked with one eye open. “Talk with Irene. Hang out with her. Is that weird?”

 

For a second, a look of uncertainty flashed across Yeri’s face before she turned her gaze to the far wall across from them where most of the tables were occupied. Her eyes seemed to drill holes right through it and into Purple Petals next door. Words hung on the tip of her tongue. She finally spoke again. The tone of her voice cold and serious.

 

“Be honest with me, did you befriend Irene out of pity?”

 

Pity? Unconsciously, Seulgi had pushed herself off the wall and looked at Yeri with both eyes open. Taken aback by what she had asked. The word repeated in her head and then she said it aloud.

 

“Pity?” Seulgi shook her head. “No, it wasn’t that at all. Actually, it was…” she trailed off, searching for the word. “It was fascination,” she confessed and Yeri’s eyes watched her carefully. “I mean, here I am, an average person just living day by day. Going to work. Going back home. Nothing else. It’s mundane. Easy,” She took a breath. “And then there’s Irene, who can’t even see, and it’s not as easy for her, not like the rest of us…” The words came out slower as she found it difficult to articulate her fascination with Irene. Was it her blindness? Her beauty? Her incredible spirit? Her radiant presence? The warmth of her smile? Or perhaps, it was all of that and more?

 

Something more...

 

“But she lives life just as well,” Seulgi continued, her voice unknowingly dropping to a whisper. “Maybe even better.”

 

She remembered what Irene had always told her, always full of optimism.

 

“Life is harder but not impossible.”

 

Yeri nodded approvingly,

 

“Good,” she said, the coldness in her voice gone. “Friends out of pity happens a lot and it’s normal. What is when it continues to just be out of pity. Those friends don’t last long and I’m sure Irene has had more than enough of those.” There’s a small pause and Seulgi couldn’t help but think that Yeri, too, had a few of those friends once before. “I’m glad you’re not one of them, Seulgi.” Yeri playfully bumped her shoulder against hers.

 

Seulgi returned the gesture and they both smiled.

 

“But why the sudden question?” Seulgi asked.

 

“Because I went in there the other day to get some flowers. When I did, I told Irene I worked here and we ended up talking about you.”

 

Seulgi made a face, looking somewhat curious of what conversation transpired between Irene and Yeri. Especially since she herself was the main subject. That usually spelled trouble.

 

“Oh yeah? Hope you didn’t say anything bad about me,” Seulgi chuckled lightly.

 

An unexpected smirk played across Yeri’s lips.

 

“Even if I told her the most embarrassing story about you, I don’t think it would’ve mattered,” she reassured.

 

Seulgi cocked her head to to the side.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The smirk on Yeri’s face widened as if she held an untold secret all to herself. She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her apron and gave a long dramatic sigh followed by trails of a tiny giggle.

 

“The entire time we talked, you could just see it on her face.” Once again, Yeri bumped her shoulder against Seulgi, teasing her with a nudge. “She likes you alot, you know.”

 

//

 

As soon as Seulgi stepped into the shop, it was hard not to notice the tension that hung in the air. The barista proceeded carefully, her eyes glancing about. At the counter, surprisingly, was Wendy. Yet even more surprising, was the deep scowl that pulled at both corners of her lips. Something had happened.

 

Before Seulgi could take a seat on her reserved stool, Wendy spoke, “Irene isn’t working today.”

 

“Oh?” Seulgi uttered as she watched Wendy arrange the bouquet she was working on. She did it roughly. Angrily. Quick hand movements that showed no restraint or care. Wendy clicked her tongue as she accidentally brushed off a petal. Seulgi had never seen her so on edge.

 

“Did something happen?” Seulgi asked, concerned. Aggravating the shorter girl was unwise, especially when she seemed to hold little to no patience. It was probably better to just leave but when it came to Irene, Seulgi always asked questions.

 

Wendy sighed in frustration and dropped her hands on the counter. A loud slap echoed.

 

“I walked in this morning and caught a customer harassing her. She already told him no numerous times and he--” She clenched her teeth and growled. “I kicked him out and made her take the rest of the day off.”

 

Wendy gave no more details. Seulgi didn’t want to hear them anyway. The way she shook and seethed was more than enough, more than what words could tell her. But Wendy was livid, she growled again, and smacked the counter as the scene played over in her head.

 

“You know what, Seulgi? I just can’t believe these people sometimes,” she nearly shouted, venom laced in her voice, holding nothing back. “Humans really are the ugliest thing on this planet.”

 

Seulgi kept silent as Wendy bulled on.

 

“I used to tell Irene that maybe her blindness was a blessing,” Wendy let out a humorless chuckle. “Because she couldn’t see all the vile and brutal things people did to each other. What they put in the news, on the papers, the internet. Sure, she still heard about it--she knew. But she didn’t see it and that at least saved her some heartache.” Her voice faded away. Silence hung between them. Wendy shook her head.

 

“But then I started to really understand that I was wrong about what I said.” The words came out heavy. Wendy’s hands wound into tight fists. White-knuckled and trembling. “Because she’s blind, Irene’s an easy target. People would talk about her as if she couldn’t hear them. Kids bullied her because they thought it was harmless fun. Others pitied her and some tried to take advantage of her. After all, what could she do? She was blind.”

 

Wendy took a deep breath and exhaled. Letting everything flow through her. Ridding herself of the anger she harbored, she began to calm down. Her voice, at the very least, no longer retained any bitterness. Only frustration remained.

 

“But even after everything, at the end of the day, Irene doesn’t hold it against any of them. She brushes them off. She smiles. She does her best. And she continues to be kind,” Wendy met Seulgi’s gaze. Her eyes were dark but they seemed to shimmer just a bit. Almost as if she were close to tears but none fell. “Tell me, how do people find enjoyment in hurting someone so frail?”

 

Seulgi barely shook her head, “Irene’s not frail, Wendy. She’s a strong person.”

 

Wendy scowled and looked away.

 

“Only because society made her that way,” she said. “They crushed her until she learned that when you’re broken, people won’t hesitate to poke and expose your cracks.”

 

This time Seulgi said nothing. Instead, she wondered quietly about everything Irene could’ve possibly been through. She knew of the overarching details. How the kids treated her. What they called her. Discriminations she faced. And more. Irene told her of them. But unlike Wendy, Seulgi hadn’t been there for years by Irene’s side witnessing all of it. If she did, maybe she, too, would feel the same anger that boiled through Wendy’s blood.

 

The silence between them lasted for a few minutes until Wendy finally breathed a sigh, calming herself again. She turned to look at Seulgi with apologetic eyes.

 

“Sorry, Seulgi. Look, I know she’s strong. I just… I just wish she didn’t have to be--not all the time, at least,” Wendy confessed. “Because underneath it all, she might not admit it, but Irene is someone who easily gets hurt.”

 

--

 

Her right hand held the plastic bag tight. Her left hung in the air, hesitating to knock on the door.

 

Apartment 329.

 

Hopefully, she heard the address and apartment number correctly when Wendy was telling her. After everything that was said, Seulgi couldn’t go home just like that. But what would she do now that she was here? What was she hoping to accomplish? It seemed to always be like this. Her body moving first, mind following after, trying to reason out just why it is she was doing what she did.

 

She moved her hand again to knock but froze centimeters away from the door. Even her own hesitation was confusing. Seulgi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, she knocked twice.

 

Inside, she could hear feet shuffling towards her. Closer and closer. The sound of the lock unlatched and then the door opened a couple of inches, enough for Irene to reveal her face. The girl’s nose scrunched briefly and her eyebrows arched in surprise, she smiled.

 

“Seulgi?”

 

The barista grinned.

 

“I hope I didn’t drop by at a bad time,” Seulgi laughed nervously, shuffling where she stood. “I noticed you weren’t at the shop.”

 

“Yeah, Wendy told me to take the day off,” she said and her smile never fell from her lips.

 

Told. If Seulgi remembered correctly, Wendy said she made Irene take the day off. Her voice didn’t fluctuate. Her expression didn’t falter. And not a hint of emotion betrayed her words. Seulgi was beginning to understand how Wendy felt. Irene was too strong for her own good. The barista would’ve never known that something had happened. But she would’ve asked like she always did. Then, more likely than not, Irene would have told her the truth and played it off with a giggle and a smile to ease her worries.

 

But Seulgi knew and this time, she’d rather not ask.

 

“Mind if I come in? Hang out a bit?” Seulgi asked, scratching her cheek. “Unless, you’d rather be alone of course. I don’t want to bother.”

 

Irene opened the door wider and stepped forward, standing in the door frame. She held out one finger.

 

“You have to answer one question.” Her arms folded across her chest. “Why did you come here, did Wendy tell you to check up me?”

 

The second half of the question was easy enough to answer. No, Wendy didn’t request her of anything. It was the first half of the question that left her searching for an answer. It’s what made her move. What compelled her feet to walk. What left her wondering at Irene’s doorstep. What was she doing here?

 

Her right fist tightens, gripping the plastic bag harder. It rustled in her grasp.

 

“No,” Seulgi shook her head and spoke the truth, “I’m here because I really wanted to see you.”

 

Her face flushed soon after. Startled by the words that came out of her own mouth. The pulsing in her ears grew louder. Unbearably so. Her answer elicits a harmonious giggle from Irene and Seulgi’s face burned a brighter shade of red. The blind girl took a step back and then one more to the side.

 

“Come in.”

 

Seulgi awkwardly walked past her and into the apartment.

 

“You brought something?” Irene called out as she shut the door.

 

The barista lifted the bag for Irene to hear as she continued to wander about, “Carrot cake. You said you were craving some the other day.”

 

“Yes!” the other girl exclaimed with joy. “Let’s head to the kitchen then.”

 

Clean and spacious were the first words that came to mind. Her eyes scanned the room as she took a few more steps forward. Seulgi wouldn’t call the place empty but it was fairly bare bones. Then again, what was the point in decorating when you couldn’t see, she thought. There was a nice leather couch with a low coffee table in front of it and a tv across. Beside the couch was a standing lamp for additional lighting and all along the left wall were bookshelves. Irene wasn’t kidding when she said she had quite the collection.

 

Seulgi’s eyes narrowed. Upon closer inspection, there were not only books in braille but also books Irene kept from her childhood before she lost her vision. Some picture books. Pop up books. Seulgi found herself smiling at a few familiar titles. The next row of shelves contained a variety of audiobook CDs. Too many to count and none of which she recognized.

 

Her eyes widened as the next collection surprised her. It had it’s own bookcase. Solely dedicated and all. Looking at each one, Seulgi remembered them all vividly. The time and effort she had spent. All the detail and care. She felt her heart stir at the sight.

 

“You put all the carvings I gave you on display?” Seulgi asked with obvious delight.

 

“Of course,” Irene boasted as she moved along the wall, making her way to the kitchen. “It’s art, shouldn’t it be shown off?”

 

The blunt response made Seulgi laugh. Her attention bounced from one carving to the next. Counting them in her head. One. Two. Five. Twelve. And as she continued, to her pleasant surprise, not a single one seemed to be missing. Irene had kept each and every figure molded by her hands.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve got all of them here.”

 

Seulgi marvelled at them. Seeing them all together, collected in one space--well, there was something satisfying about it. Satisfying and wonderful.

 

“You sound so surprised.” A smile could be heard in Irene’s voice. “Each one was a gift you gave to me. So naturally, I kept them. They’re precious and deserve to be shown off, don’t you think?”

 

Seulgi could only laugh. It was small praise but Irene’s words were filled with such sincerity, it embarrassed her. Her eyes fell to the display again for one last look. She arched a brow. One was missing. Where was the--

 

“Seulgi, come over here already,” Irene called from down the hall. “I’m dying for some of that carrot cake.”

 

“Coming!”

 

She decided to brush away the thought.

 

//

 

It was the third day in a row. The coffee and blueberry muffin packed and ready to go, set at the far corner of the counter, had grown cold. They’d been sitting there for the past two hours or so. More likely than not, just like the past three days, they’d sit there past morning, past the afternoon, and until closing time. But still, Seulgi prepared it and left it waiting.

 

She, too, waited.

 

“You think he’ll show up today?” Yeri asked as she followed Seulgi’s line of sight. She’d been staring at the cup and paper bag for the past five minutes.

 

Seulgi shrugged.

 

“I’d like to say yes but probably not. I guess work really did swamp Jackson.”

 

Yeri began restocking the cups and covers. Tidying up the work space, she nodded her head at Seulgi’s preparations.

 

“How long are you going to keep it up?”

 

“Maybe a few more days,” Seulgi said, uncertain. “Don’t worry, I’m paying for it.”

 

She wasn’t particularly close to Jackson but he was a regular at Queen’s Cafe. One of their longest running customers. And despite not having a tight-knit friendship, there was still a bond between them. After all, they regularly shared mornings together in a sense. He was a part of her day to day life and for him to suddenly stop showing up was a bit saddening, more than she thought it would be anyway. Another familiar face gone--she hoped that wasn’t the case.

 

“He was a real mess the last time I saw him,” Yeri sighed at the memory of Jackson running in with shoes untied and blazer half on. “Here’s hoping he catches a break soon.”

 

Seulgi nodded.

 

“Yeah.”

 

//

 

Ever since the harassment incident, Wendy was frequently present at the shop working alongside Irene. The latter told her over and over that she was quite fine on her own but that wasn’t the problem. Wendy didn’t trust everyone else and for the sake of her heart and to save her from worrying anymore than she already did, she insisted on being at the shop as much as she could. In the end, Irene accepted it.

 

Seulgi didn’t mind either, it was fun talking to the two of them. Whenever Wendy wasn’t busy she’d share stories about her Irene. From their young middle school days to college to now. A lot of which, Irene had already told her except for a lot of the embarrassing portions, which Wendy was more than happy enough to share.

 

“Hey Seulgi,” Irene slowly walked over, her hand gliding across the countertop until she bumped into Seulgi’s arms that laid resting. She stopped and turned to face Seulgi’s general direction. “Do you have any plans this evening?”

 

The barista blinked twice, pointing to herself.

 

“Me? Not really. Other than hanging out here I was just going to head home afterwards.”

 

Irene leaned forward, much closer than Seulgi anticipated and the latter instinctively leaned back a bit, nearly falling off the stool. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she fought back a blush. Afraid Wendy might catch her during her moment of embarrassment by chance.

 

“Why not join me for dinner then?” Irene asked, patting Seulgi’s arm twice before lightly resting her hand on top of it. Effectively freezing Seulgi in place.

 

Coherent words fail to form and Seulgi repeats the only thing that comes to mind.

 

“Dinner?”

 

And her voice nearly cracks between the syllables. Irene stifles her laugh with her other hand.

 

“Yes, dinner,” she confirmed.

 

It was a simple invitation and yet Seulgi found herself stumbling. She looked past Irene to where the doorway to the back was.

 

“What about Wendy?”

 

Suddenly, the shorter girl popped out from behind Irene, pushing a cart full of potted flowers.

 

“I’m still busy. You guys go on ahead,” she waved, insisting. “I’ll join next time.”

 

With no room for argument or rejection, Irene excitedly took Seulgi’s hand in hers.

 

“Dinner it is then.”

 

--

 

Seulgi couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious as she followed Irene’s lead. She swayed her white cane back and forth, taking turns and going down roads Seulgi had never been to. They were starting to reach the shadier parts of the city. The barista was half-tempted to stop Irene, double-back to Purple Petals and just grab some food from the pizza place across the street but Irene held her hand and kept her close, smiling all the while and talking as they walked.

 

“Uh, where is exactly is this place you were talking about?” Seulgi asked, eyes bouncing all around.

 

“Just a little up ahead.”

 

The streetlights in this district were dimly lit. Some were out. Old bricked building lined the streets as they ventured further and further. Anxiety and unease started to sink in. Until finally, in what felt like forever, Irene stops at the top of some stairs that led down to the entrance of a building. It was dark. It was gray. It was eerily quiet. And above everything else, it was incredibly suspicious.

 

“Here it is,” Irene chimed, descending the steps, pulling a hesitant Seulgi behind her.

 

She folded up her cane and knocked on the door. Seulgi kept an eye at the top of the stairs, in case anyone were to sneak up on them.

 

“How did the hell did you find this place?” Seulgi asked a little too quickly.

 

Irene simply stood still. Patiently waiting and unusually calm compared to the barista in front of her.

 

“On accident when I got lost before,” she smiled.
 

Seulgi turned to look at her, utter disbelief written all over her face.

 

“Wait, when you got--”

 

The door practically flew open. A man at least two heads taller than Seulgi stood in the doorway,. Big and burly, towering over her, he gazed down at the them with a hard frown. Then, his eyes settled on Irene and narrowed before a giant crooked grin brightened his face.

 

“Look who it is!” he shouted, voice booming, nearly deafening Seulgi. She winced as he spoke.

 

Irene, on the other hand, let out a small giggle and nodded.

 

“Good evening, Chef Jung.”

 

“How are you, sweetheart?”

 

“Great. I brought a friend with me. This is Seulgi. Seulgi, this is the amazing Chef Jung.”

 

Seulgi stood frozen. Unsure of whether to shake the man’s hand, give him a small wave, or keep mum. Eventually, she opted for a small wave and a slightly awkward smile.

 

“Nice to meet you, Seulgi!” He bent down and roughly shook her waving hand. When he let go, Seulgi nearly fell backwards. “Well, come on in, let’s get you all seated and ready to eat. You okay with your usual table, sweetheart?” He offered his arm out to her.

 

She took it, lightly placing her hand on his forearm. Her other hand reached out for Seulgi and held her by the wrist.

 

“The usual would be perfect.”

 

--

 

Seulgi was too stunned to speak and too absorbed in taking in her surroundings that Irene went ahead and ordered for the both of them. The man known as Chef Jung gave them a large smile, one that showed all of his teeth and lifted his cheeks, one could see the wrinkles at the end of his eyes. Then, he went off to prepare their food.

 

The place was faintly lit and extremely loud. To be quite frank, it wasn’t a wine and dine restaurant. It was a bar. Loud, rowdy, and atmospheric with quite the variety of customers. Seulgi couldn’t help but let her eyes wander.

 

“It’s not really much of a restaurant,” Irene said amongst all the noise. “But the food Chef Jung makes here is some of the best I’ve ever had.”

 

“Chef Jung?” Seulgi raised a brow.

 

He certainly didn’t look like your typical chef.

 

“His nickname,” Irene clarified. “In actuality, he’s the owner of this bar.”

 

That made more sense. How he got the nickname or who gave it to him was the next question that popped into her mind. But there was one that was more important and needed answering.

 

“And you said you found this place by accident? When you got lost?” Seulgi emphasized the last word.

 

Try as she might, Seulgi was unable to completely hide the worry in her voice. Irene took a sip of her water, set it down, and traced her finger around the rim. She spoke as calmly as always.

 

“It’s not as bad as it sounds nor as scary as you imagine, Seulgi. I promise. I was fine. I just happened to get lost one day when I was running an errand and wandered into this place to ask for directions,” Irene shrugged. “Chef Jung was kind enough to help me and even treated me to a meal.”

 

Despite what Irene had said, it did little to relieve Seulgi. Getting lost was scary enough. Getting lost and being blind on top of it, Seulgi didn’t even want to think about it. The second she did, her imagination ran wild.

 

The barista shook her head, ridding herself of wanted thoughts and then asked, “How were you not afraid?”

 

Afraid of the city. The dangers that lurked in the alleyways. The sirens that go off day and night. What scumbags could be lying in wait, ready to pounce at their next victim and take advantage of whoever they could. Seulgi had thought about it before because if she was Irene, she was certain she would be scared beyond belief.

 

“Afraid?” Irene repeated. She dwelled on the word as she understood what Seulgi was really asking. “I used to be. All the time, in fact. And I still am just a bit. But I grew tired of it and decided that I would trust in my own capabilities and that I would also trust in other people to help me.”

 

Other people. Seulgi frowned as she thought of all the strangers who had did Irene wrong. All the children who had mistreated her. The classmates who might have harassed her. And the many more who would undoubtedly hurt her.

 

“Not everyone is so kind, Irene. You should be more careful.”

 

But Irene smiled.

 

“And not everyone has bad intentions, Seulgi. So I’m willing to take the chance.”

 

//

 

About two to three times a week, Irene would invite Seulgi to come with her to dinner. If not dinner, then for a walk somewhere in the city. And although Wendy promised to join the next time, she never did. It was always just the two of them.

 

Irene would always lead the way. It must have been an unusual sight to those passing them by. Seulgi trailing behind, guided by Irene’s hand as she swept her cane back and forth in confident strides. As if she knew exactly where she was going and even if she didn’t, they would end up exactly where she wanted.

 

All of the places Irene took her were places she’d never been to. Streets she never bothered taking. Shops and restaurants she never went in. After all, Seulgi always made a beeline from home to work and work to home. Going out was a rare occasion for her. If it was for food, then there was takeout. Anything else required a compelling reason.

 

Irene had a reason. She needed to explore, get familiar. Know the city. So at times, she would venture out on her own. Map as much as she could in her head. Note the details. The smell. The sounds. The people. She didn’t know all the places by heart yet but she tried. There was still so much more in the city she hadn’t visited but she intended to.

 

It was boggling how daring Irene was. How strong. How kind.

 

And as Irene lead them to their next destination, Seulgi held her hand tighter.

 

She was amazing.

 

//

 

There was an unsettling feeling. One that seemed to seep through her skin and put her on edge. It caused her to hesitate. She closed the door behind her and at first sight, no one seemed to be in the shop. No Irene. No Wendy.

 

As she walked forward, Seulgi looked down the shelves, hoping to see one of the two but there was no one. When she reached the counter and called out their names, nothing. Why?

 

Seulgi tapped her fingers against her thigh as she continued to roam around the shop. Still calling out their names. Eyes darting back and forth. The only response was silence.

 

But finally, amidst the quiet, the tiny bell above the door chimed. Seulgi quickly spun around and ran to see who it was.

 

“Wendy!” she shouted, almost sounding frantic.

 

Wendy looked at her in surprise. The barista’s brows knitted together as she noticed the haggard expression on the shorter girl’s face.

 

The unsettling feeling grew stronger.

 

“Seulgi? How did you get in--I must have forgotten to lock up before I left earlier,” she shook her head.

 

“Where’s Irene?” Seulgi asked.

 

Instantly, Wendy casted her eyes downward and Seulgi grew cold.

 

--

 

Seulgi moved as fast as she could.

 

It happened on Saturday. She was roaming around again. She told Wendy she wanted to buy a new audiobook CD at the bookstore. Said she would drop by Wendy’s apartment shortly after and talk for a bit. Maybe watch a movie. Wendy waited for her. It was getting late. And then, she got a phone call.

 

They didn’t see her, whoever it was. Were they not paying attention? Were they busy on their phone? Wendy didn’t know. She only asked about Irene before she bolted through her apartment door and raced towards the hospital. Seulgi didn’t bother to ask any further.

 

Seulgi was panting. Chest heaving up and down as sweat rolled down the side of her face. Her hand reached for the doorknob and then stopped. She was shaking.

 

She never liked the hospital. It smelled of disinfectant and it reeked of sad human foulness. All the crying, screaming, and suffering.

 

She took a deep breath. Suppressed her trembles as much as she could and opened the door.

 

Sitting up on the bed with milky white eyes staring forward and fingers feeling braille on a open book was her.

 

Hospitals had always seemed so painful and lonely to Seulgi.

 

And now, Irene was here.

 

The barista walked into the room. Unsure steps that clacked along the white floor, echoing. Bouncing against the walls. Irene’s hands stopped. She closed the book. And as Seulgi reached the side of the bed, the blind girl smiled and turned her head towards her direction.

 

“Seulgi. You’re here,” she simply said in the same tone of voice she always did.

 

For a moment, Seulgi said nothing. What should she say? I’m sorry about what happened. Or Are you okay? Does it hurt? Who did this? She had more questions in her than words of comfort. But the important thing was, for the most part, Irene didn’t seem to be in terrible condition. Much better than what Seulgi imagined and for that, she was thankful. Still, her chest ached at the sight of Irene. Hospital dress. Clean white walls. Medical equipment surrounding her. Seulgi didn’t like it.

 

“I, uh,” Seulgi coughed and cleared , “I got you a balloon. It’s got a bunny on it.”

 

Unsure of what to do, she tied the balloon to the railing of the bed and lead Irene’s hand to feel where the string was. She nodded.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“And here, some flowers too,” she gently set a bouquet of purple lilacs on her lap. Wendy helped arranged it for her. “Your favorite.”

 

Irene held them to her nose, taking in the scent.

 

“Wow, you actually bought flowers,” she chuckled.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Seulgi tried to say more. Make idle conversation and bring up the mood but her hands balled up into fists wound tight at her side. Jaw set, shoulders shaking, she took a sharp breath.

 

“What happened to me isn’t as bad as it sounds, you know,” Irene tried to comfort her.

 

Seulgi scoffed, she didn’t mean to but here she was, trembling at Irene’s bedside, useless. The girl was hit by a car and yet Irene was more worried about Seulgi’s feelings than her own condition. Seulgi should be the one comforting her.

 

She tried to laugh.

 

“I have a hard time believing that from where I’m standing.”

 

Irene carefully set the flowers aside. She held her hand up in the air, reaching for Seulgi, and the latter laid her hand in hers. Irene held it tight with both hands.

 

“Seulgi, I’m fine,” she reassured. “I’m just going to be in the hospital for few weeks while I recover and do physical therapy.“ There was no tremble or hesitation when she spoke. “Really, I’m okay now. You don’t have to worry so much.”

 

Impossible. Seulgi bent down on her knees, clasped her free hand on top of Irene’s two that held her, and sighed.

 

“I only worry more when you tell me not to,” she said, her voice nearly quiet.

 

Irene titled her head. Dark hair falling from where it was tucked behind her ear, drifting a bit past her cheeks.

 

“Are you still going to visit me every day?”

 

“Of course.”

 

//

 

It was odd at first, going to the hospital every day. Seulgi dreaded it. The atmosphere was simply unnerving and the feeling never lessened. Not even with her frequent visits.

 

“How has your day been, Seulgi?” Irene greeted her.

 

The smile that curved her lips was seemingly unchanged. But Seulgi could see it was just a veil masking her melancholy. And slowly, that veil became more and more transparent.

 

“Pretty alright,” Seulgi said. “How about yours?”

 

“Mine was productive, I suppose,” she giggled. “I finished another audiobook.”

 

Productive. That was one way to look at it. A positive spin on the unfortunate situation she was victim too. She was smiling too often. Giggling too much. Much more than normal. She was trying too hard--trying too hard to be okay.

 

“I brought you something.”

 

“Oh, what is it?”

 

Seulgi dug into her pocket and revealed a wood carving of a tiny wolf. She placed it into Irene’s lap.

 

“It’s another carving I made.”

 

For a moment, her lips quivered. Irene clutched the wolf in her hands. Delicate, dainty fingers that shook as they tightened their grip. Her shoulders dropped.

 

“Do you have a story for it?”

 

“Don’t I always?”

 

She tried to smile. There was only so much she could hide and only for so long.

 

Seulgi did her best to make Irene’s days feel normal. She tried. Whether or not she was succeeding, she didn’t know. But one thing was for certain, Irene was not okay and every time Seulgi looked at her false smile, her heart ached.

 

//

 

In the darkness, she awoke to an incessant ringing. With eyes barely open, she reached for her phone on the night stand by her bed. She winced at the bright LED screen, pressed the green button, and put it to her ear.

 

“Hello?” Seulgi said, voice muffled with sleep.

 

“Seulgi?”

 

Upon the sound of her voice, Seulgi came to full consciousness.

 

“Irene? Is something wrong?”

 

The line grew quiet. Seulgi could hear her breathing softly. Irene was being uncharacteristically hesitant. The silence remained for a few moments longer.

 

“I…” Irene began. “I can’t fall asleep. Do you mind staying on the line and talking with me until I do?”

 

Seulgi pulled off her blankets and sat up, using her pillow to cushion her back. She stole a glance at the clock, 1 am.

 

“Of course, I don’t mind.”

 

Around 4 am, light snores came through the phone. Irene finally fell asleep in the middle of Seulgi’s story. The barista fixed her pillow and laid back down. Two more hours until she had to get up for work. She threw the blanket over her and shut her eyes.

 

Irene didn’t say it--she didn’t have to--but Seulgi knew that there was something wrong. The accident did more than just hurt her. It took something away from her.

 

She was afraid.

 

Seulgi bit her lip. She needed to do something.

 

//

 

Every day, on the way home, Seulgi stopped by the hospital. But only for an hour or two now, not nearly as long as before. Because at night, after work, she went out. Camera in hand, notebook and pen in the other, she wrote down everything she could about the city as she explored. The architecture of each building. How each district looked. She mapped it out by hand. Took pictures for reference.

 

She had an idea.

 

Truth be told, she didn’t know exactly what she was doing or if it would even help but it was all she could think of. It was all she could give to Irene when she would finally come back. And it was all she could do to keep herself from staying by Irene’s side all night and ease her fears.

 

//

 

Seulgi decided to visit Irene a little earlier today then maybe get a head start on scouting the city. And at first, when she opened the door, she was happy to see him. Jackson didn’t come by Queen’s Cafe anymore. Both Seulgi and Yeri figured he was too busy for the stop. He looked exhausted, eyes red, and cheeks hollow. As if he were hanging by a mere thread.

 

Then, it dawned on her.

 

Why Jackson was in Irene’s hospital room. Why he had flowers. Why he took the time to come here. Because he had to.

 

“You,” Seulgi narrowed her eyes. The word came out in a hiss, one of both disbelief and anger. “I can’t--you’re the one who hit Irene?”

 

He flinched like a hurt puppy. In a fit of anger, caught up in her emotions, Seulgi stomped towards him. Irene seemed to call out to her but Seulgi didn’t hear. All she saw, all she heard, was the man in front of her. The one who cowered beneath her stare.

 

“Seulgi, I--”

 

“You were the driver, Jackson?”

 

“Yes,” he said, just barely.

 

The confirmation gave her a mix of emotions. Of all the people that could have been behind the wheel, all along, it was him.

 

“How, I--why?” Seulgi bit her lip, blood starting to boli. “Were you rushing to work? Is that what it was? Were you falling asleep at the wheel? I don’t understand--I can’t believe that you’re the one who did this to Irene!” she didn’t mean to yell but holding back just wasn’t possible.

 

The right corner of his lips twitched and his eyes blinked over and over again. It was evident to see that he was a mess.

 

“I know. I’m sorry. It was all my fault. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m really sorry.”

 

There were no words. If Seulgi spoke, she would only yell again. What everyone said was right. Apologies were never good enough.

 

“Seulgi, stop,” Irene commanded. This time Seulgi heard her. She was sitting up straight in her bed and in her lap, her hands were gripping the bed sheets desperately. “Thank you for the flowers again, Jackson. I think it’s probably best if you go now.” Her voice remained composed but the cracks could be heard, it was teetering on the border of a breakdown.

 

“Right,” Jackson looked away. Dragging his feet towards the exit, he muttered over and over, “I’m sorry, Irene. I really am.”

 

When the door shut behind him, Seulgi turned her gaze to Irene.

 

“He visits every day too, you know,” Irene revealed in hopes of getting Seulgi to understand. “The accident really got to him.”

 

But the problem wasn’t Seulgi didn’t understand or sympathize. The whole situation was the issue because Irene should have never gotten hurt.

 

“You say that like you weren’t the victim.”

 

Irene frowned.

 

“He’s hurting from the guilt, Seulgi.”

 

“And you’re hurting too,” Seulgi quickly shot back, self-control quickly crumbling. “You don’t want to show it but I know you are. That accident rattled you. And Jackson--”

 

“Seulgi, every time he sees me, he apologizes. I forgive him. Things happen.” Stern and unwavering, she continued, “Sometimes things can be unfortunate. This is just one of those times.”

 

It was then, Seulgi understood why Wendy had been so furious that day.

 

“He’s not a bad guy,” Irene pleaded.

 

Even on the brink of falling apart, Irene forced herself to be okay. To be strong. In a way, it was admirable. On the other hand, it was so much more agonizing to bear witness to. Seulgi felt her gut sink as she stared into Irene’s hazy, empty eyes.

 

“I know he’s not. It’s just…” Seulgi sighed, defeated. “So you forgive him. For everything?”

 

Irene gave an affirmative nod. Hands still clenched deep into her bed sheets.

 

“I do.”

 

Seulgi pulled a chair from the corner over to Irene’s bedside and sat. She took a deep breath and exhaled. Settling her emotions.

 

“Then, who am I to argue.”

 

And that was that.

 

//

 

Sandpaper littered the floor. Sawdust filled the air, fell in the cracks of the floor, and accumulated in piles all around. Seulgi wiped the back of her hand against her forehead, sweat smearing. Tangles of matted hair stuck to her temples.

 

She glanced at all the papers she ripped from her notebook. Different sketches, mapping bits of the city laid out across her kitchen counter. Night had already fallen unbeknownst to her. The time on the stove flashed red.

 

Midnight.

 

Seulgi looked at her progress. About two blocks done. It was taking longer than she thought but that was fine. At least, it was something.

 

//

 

“How’s she doing?” Seulgi inquired, taking a seat next to Wendy on the bench.

 

Ahead, Irene was working with her physical therapist. Wendy kept her eyes on her best friend, watching with earnest attention.

 

“She’s doing well. Working hard,” Wendy nodded. Though, from the look on her face, she wanted to say more.

 

Seulgi leaned back against the wall. Folded her arms across her chest and she, too, began to observe Irene. Indeed, she seemed to be doing great. Her therapist encouraged her and Irene did whatever she was told. But there was something about her movements.

 

“She’s hesitating,” Seulgi said aloud what Wendy had kept silent.

 

The other girl sighed.

 

“Yeah. But she’ll get past this. She’s Irene after all.”

 

The barista gave silence as her agreement. It was a statement she wholeheartedly believed in.

 

“She’s been getting thinner,” Wendy spoke again. “Did you notice?”

 

Seulgi nodded. It was hard not to. For the past few days, Irene’s cheeks sunk in more. Her neck seemed to shrink. And her shoulders looked smaller. It was disheartening to think that Irene was slowly withering, like a flower without sun. Was she not eating enough? Was she stressed? Depressed? Honestly, Seulgi was too afraid to ask. But things seemed to be taking their toll on Irene.

 

“I have to go back to the shop,” Wendy said as she rose to her feet. She took one last glance at Irene before turning around to Seulgi. “You’re going to stay for a while, right?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Good. Thanks, Seulgi. I’ll see you later.”

 

--

 

Finished with her session, Irene’s physical therapist lead her to the bench Seulgi was sitting on, notifying her that one of her friends hand come to visit. When she asked if it was the short one or the one who smelled like coffee, he gave her a quizzical look. Irene laughed at her own inside joke. Even now, she had the heart to laugh somehow.

 

She guessed it was the one who smelled like coffee and as they reached Seulgi and the bench, she smiled, knowing full well she was right.

 

Irene didn’t give Seulgi time to ask questions. Instead, she bombarded the barista with questions of her own. How her day was. What she did last night and over the weekend. Seulgi answered it all. And just as Irene was about to ask more, Seulgi noticed the thin chain around her neck and the ring that hung on it.

 

Seulgi reached out to touch the Green Lantern ring. The only carving that was missing on Irene’s shelf.

 

“I was wondering where it was,” Seulgi confessed. “You wear it around your neck?”

 

Irene smiled and played with the tiny silver chain. Rubbing it between her fingers.

 

“Yeah. It’s a little loose on my finger and I didn’t want it falling off so I thought of wearing it like this.”

 

It was a touching sentiment that had Seulgi grinning. She examined the blind girl’s face more closely.

 

“Is your physical therapy hard?” she asked.

 

Irene hummed in thought for second, “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. But the activity itself… “

 

It wasn’t the difficult part. Seulgi knew that. The difficulty lied in trusting herself. Her movements and the environment. Everything around her which she couldn’t see. It was obvious in the way Irene was hesitating. Irene’s hand dropped to her lap and she grew silent. Expressionless, she stared and her hands slowly curled into fists.

 

Seulgi’s eyes softened, “The ring I gave you. Do you remember what it’s powered by?”

 

Irene’s brows knitted together.

 

“Willpower?”

 

“Right,” Seulgi nodded and she scooted closer to Irene. “And as the ring’s chosen bearer, you have to be someone with incredible willpower. Enough to overcome fear, overcome anything.” She placed a hand over Irene’s quivering fist. She was cold. She was shaking. Seulgi held her still. “Irene, I don’t know anyone nearly as strong or capable as you are. You’ll get through this and I’ll be right here with you.”

 

Irene lowered her head. Hair masking her face, she shivered. And Seulgi felt a tear touch her skin. Two more. Three. When Irene finally began sobbing, Seulgi wrapped her arms around her, cradling her close. Letting her breakdown in her embrace.

 

//

 

Her apartment only got dirtier and dirtier. She never seemed to have time to clean. Not with work, going to see Irene, walking around the city, and then working on this project at night. But that was fine. The time for cleaning would come later.

 

She only had a few more days until Irene would be released from the hospital.

 

Another block and a half finished with so much more to go.

 

//

 

Two more days until Irene got out. Seulgi walked into Purple Petals. Funny how she used to come by every day, now it was the hospital that she constantly visited. Hearing the bell chime, Wendy popped out from the back of the shop. Her eyes widened in surprise as Seulgi waved her hello.

 

“You here to buy Irene flowers for when she gets out or something?” Wendy laughed.

 

“That’s a good idea but no,” Seulgi shook her head. “I’m here to ask for a favor.”

 

Wendy raised a brow, curious of what Seulgi could possibly want.

 

“Do you mind if I take Irene home when she’s discharged?”

 

She said it a little too fast but Wendy seemed to hear her. She also seemed to notice the blush Seulgi was so desperately trying to hide. The shorter girl smirked.

 

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’d want to see you most after she gets out anyway--”

 

“And one more thing!” Seulgi cut in before Wendy returned to work. “Could I borrow your spare key to Irene’s apartment? There’s something I need to prepare.”

 

//

 

Today was finally the day.

 

Ever since they left the hospital, Irene clung to Seulgi’s arm. Free hand swinging her white cane in small arcs, not so much to see where she was going but from force of habit. Her mind was elsewhere, Seulgi could see it written on her face. Once they stepped outside, she retreated within herself and began to overthink. One could easily sense her quiet unease.

 

Seulgi did what little she could, laying her hand over the one Irene held her with. Her fingers were chilly so the barista rubbed them, warming her up.

 

“Do you want to stop by anywhere first?” Seulgi asked as they crossed the street.

 

Irene stiffened, holding her breath. It wasn’t until they reached the other side that she relaxed.

 

“Maybe say hi to Chef Jung and get some food?” the barista suggested.

 

Irene shook her head.

 

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to brighten up her voice. “For now, I’d just like to go home. It feels like ages since I’ve been there.” Light laughter trailed her words but they soon died out as she returned to her previous state. Mind far off, somewhere. Seulgi patted Irene’s hand in comfort.

 

She nodded to herself, “Home it is, then.”

 

--

 

Home.

 

Number 329. Irene’s humble little apartment.

 

Seulgi fidgeted with the keys. As she struggled to open the door, she realized she was more nervous than she thought. Everything was just behind this door. Late nights of hard work and hours spent roaming the city. Irene waited patiently behind her. The door clicked unlock.

 

A deep breath.

 

One step in the door and this was it. Irene would instantly notice.

 

Another deep breath.

 

Seulgi pushed the door open and moved aside.

 

“After you,” she said, insisting Irene go in first.

 

The girl nodded with a slight curve to her lips and walked through. About five steps in, she froze in place, stood there and turned her head a bit to the left. To the right. Then back to the left. Confusion and surprise were evident on her face from the tiny creases that formed between her brows.

 

Seulgi shut the door and stood behind her. Irene smelt it. It was impossible not to. With so many pieces, the scent of wood was prominent. Seulgi wasn’t even done with most of it but here it was.

 

“What is that, Seulgi?” Irene asked, still in place.

 

“I’ll show you,” Seulgi replied as she gently ushered Irene forward by the shoulders to the center of the living room. “Let’s move closer.”

 

It took a whole day to set up. Seulgi made a table specifically for it as well. The entire time of preparation, well, she didn’t keep track of the hours but it was a great deal.

 

At the edge of the table, Seulgi held Irene’s right hand, guiding it.

 

Each one was made with more care and effort than any previous carving Seulgi had done. She was incredibly meticulous. It had to resemble the real thing. Even if Irene couldn’t see it. Because these were made to help Irene see.

 

The shady street with Chef Jung’s bar.

 

The park they walked past one night of just strolling and talking.

 

Irene’s favorite ice cream shop.

 

Her apartment.

 

Purple Petals and Queen’s Cafe.

 

“Is this…” Irene gasped.

 

Seulgi nodded, letting her hand go, free to explore.

 

“It’s a miniature model of the city,” Seulgi revealed as Irene turned to face her. “Or at least, it’s one in progress. I’m not even close to done but I was able to finish a few blocks. The important ones.”

 

Irene seemed to have questions of why and how stuck in . Her lips parting to speak, yet no words were spoken. Her eyes, milky white, were not so vast and empty. They held something, the tiniest thing but Seulgi could faintly see it. And in this moment, Irene looked at her with a gaze that could shatter her.

 

A tiny smile made it’s way to Seulgi’s lips.

 

“You told me that when you first went blind, the world was taken away from you. But this city--you were fearless and daring--this city was yours.” Seulgi said, voice full of conviction. “Then after the accident, you didn’t want to admit it, but you were scared. And again, something was taken away from you.”

 

A pause of silence. Seulgi softened, speaking slowly and carefully with words so tender it as if they were plucked straight from her heart.

 

“I can’t give the world back to you. I can try to but it would take forever. Right now, at the very least, I can give you the city.”

 

It was something. It was all she could do. And the best she could create.

 

“Now you can hold it in your hands and never be hurt. Never be afraid.” Her smile widened. “Plus, I’ll be here too.”

 

For the little girl who went blind.

 

For the florist who fascinated her.

 

For the woman she would do anything for.

 

Irene didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her body quivered and then she crumbled, burying her face in the crook of Seulgi’s neck, she cried. Tears soaked through and Seulgi could feel it on her skin. Over and over, with a voice that trembled, so fragile and heartfelt, she uttered the words, “Thank you.”

 

And Irene clung to her like a lifeline knowing full well, Seulgi would never let her go.

 

//

 

Months later.

 

The bell chimed and Wendy spun around, raising a brow at the newly arrived.

 

“You’re earlier than usual.”

 

Seulgi scratched her cheek.

 

“It was pretty slow today.”

 

“So you decided to get out early?” Wendy folded her arms across her chest. “Or did you get out early because you couldn’t wait to celebrate her birthday?”

 

A sheepish grin surfaced on Seulgi’s face. She’d been caught red-handed. Not like it wasn’t hard to guess in the first place but still. With perfect timing, Irene walked out of the back room.

 

“Is Seulgi here?”

 

“Yeah. Just go ahead already,” Wendy waved dismissively, sensing Irene’s impatience.

 

The blind girl took her apron off in haste and following the scent of coffee, walked towards Seulgi.

 

“Ready?” she smiled.

 

Seulgi couldn’t help but grin wider, “Ready.”

 

They headed for the door. Wendy shouted one last time before they left.

 

“Be careful while you’re out!”

 

The streets were cold but the sun was out. A good day for a walk. Irene huddled close to Seulgi, hooking their arms. She held her white cane out in her free hand and they began to walk. Full of fervor and enthusiasm, Irene took lead.

 

“So, where to?” Seulgi asked, taking in a deep breath.

 

Irene hummed a playful tune.

 

“Not sure,” she shrugged. “Let’s see where we end up.”

 

Seulgi simply nodded.

 

“Sounds good. The city is yours, after all.”

 

“Not just the city," Irene smiled. "I've got you too."
 

--

 

a/n: This took me forever, I know. I’ve been super slow at writing lately OTL. This was just an idea I had among many others and my friend on twitter (you know who you are) helped me decide. It’s not much but it was something I wanted to write and finish before updating any of my other fics or else I would have lost the motivation to even finish this and post it lol.

 

It’s a rather long one-shot lol and I don’t know if many will find it appealing? But to those who gave it a try and read, thank you! And if you enjoyed it, I’m happy you did. Now that this is complete, I’ll be focusing on writing my update for Temporarily Yours next. Please be patient with me! I see some people are waiting for me to update lol I’ll try my best to work fast~ Until next time~