Wheein’s in college now– in a desperate need of change. A scene different but familiar. Some inspiration. Which, really is just what any art major would need… right? Oh, of course, and black coffee.

But she didn’t order one today, she didn’t– couldn’t. She arrived at this quaint cafe– bringing back so many unnamed memories, so she started getting lost in her sketchbook. Drawing– sketching– creating–

“One white chocolate mocha without whip and less espresso but not decaf. Oh and–”

Wheein tunes out such a weirdly familiar and oddly specific order. She needs to focus– deadlines are at stake.

Then a hot black coffee was gently placed on her table– beside her. Framed eyes finally looked up at the charity work. The person who generously gave her her favorite.

“I think I remember someone telling me before, if the coffee isn’t strong enough to fight for me, it isn't coffee.” Byulyi smiles– wearing a different university lanyard and considerably a uniform of her style, but the same godsent charming smile.

“Seems to me that person was very wise.” Wheein responds, charmed at the gesture.

“She was- is- always will be.” Byulyi sits across from her, having been offered so.

“What’s her name?”

“Hmm, I don’t quite remember… can you tell me yours?” Byulyi, knows– remembers, but they can dance in charades again– an encore of facades in the same place they first met.

“Wheein. Jung Wheein.” She smiles. Dimpled and oh so tender– meeting her eyes– like she missed her so.

“Yep, that’s her.”

“How much do I