Officer Goh hummed to herself and heaved the heavy stack of files she was carrying up an inch higher on her hip.  There was one more spot to check before heading back to her desk to post departmental dispatches for the afternoon. 

She poked her head into Detective Lee’s office. The cluttered spaced smelled of ramen, instant coffee and dirty socks. She sneezed, then cleared and beamed her brightest work smile.

“Excuse me, Detective Lee,” she chirped.  “Do you have anything for me?”

The senior officer glanced up at her.  He was stooped over his desk with the telephone receiver molded to one ear.  The glower he cast in her direction made her jump back.

“Oh!  I’m sorry!” she whispered.

The detective fished around through his paperwork then handed her an untidy pile of files.  He tucked the receiver under his chin. “Get that missing persons alert out right away.”

She nodded, then zipped out to her cubicle and unloaded her work onto her desk.  The missing persons file was right on top.  A grainy picture had been printed out and clipped to the cover.

“Oh, what’s this?” Officer Goh murmured to herself.  “Why isn’t this with the original report?”

The foreign girl in the picture was lovely with all that curly red hair, even if her expression did look rather startled.  Officer Goh thought it a terrible shame that she had gone missing.  She hoped the girl was all right.

Sitting down at her computer, she quickly scanned the picture and merged it with the original report.  When it was complete, she tapped her mouse over the “send” button to notify the entire Seoul police department that an American student with long, red hair had officially been reported missing.

.  .  .  .  .  .

 The sun hovered low in the late afternoon sky. Its heavy rays beat through the vertical blinds, painting a slatted pattern on the opposite wall and illuminating the motes of dust that swam and eddied through the air in Seung-Bae’s room. 

She sat on the edge of his bed, waiting. 

She wasn’t entirely certain what had happened that morning, or what Hawk’s intentions were, but she was relieved to discover that the two boys thought of each other as brothers.  It threw the previous evening’s display into a whole new light, one that no longer threatened her purpose.  It was a relief.

Beside her, the low table next to Seung-Bae’s bed was coated in a thin layer of dust and littered with stacks of paperback novels.  Near her feet, another stack, perilously close to toppling over, lay discarded on the floor. A lone volume next to the small bedside lamp had been left open and face down.  On the cover, a black skinned elf wielding two flashing swords faced off against a horde of mad-eyed monsters.  His snow white hair writhed around his face as though he fought in the midst of a raging storm. 

She reached to run her fingers over the jacket’s embossed lettering.  The lines and curves that formed written words were familiar to her. She had seen them in her dreams and knew they had purpose.  But beyond that, they had no more meaning than deliberately formed shapes.  She could not read them.

A silver picture frame stood next to the book.  She picked it up and held it in her hands.  The young woman in the photograph was beautiful.  Her long, dark hair was pulled up into a loose twist and her eyes looked kind, soft and dreamy, as if her mind were engaged in some inner journey to places far more interesting than the photographer’s lens.  A young, rosy-cheeked version of Seung-Bae sat encircled in her arms.  Her hand rested against the dimpled baby flesh of his thigh. His fist clutched around her index finger.  It was such a small gesture, but one filled with significance – the need of a child for its mother.

She returned the picture to its spot on the bedside table and rose from the bed. 

A long desk pushed up against an inside wall held Seung-Bae’s computer and an electronic keyboard.  Next to it sprawled a pile of papers and spiral notebooks. The strewn sheets were a jumble of works in progress; pieces of music and strings of partially finished lyrics. In several places, lines of text had been crossed out and re-written.  The deep hash marks cut across his print like angry slashes from a blade, as if the paper was a battlefield and the pen Seung-Bae’s weapon.

She pulled the pages into a neat stack. 

Under them she found a photograph of the band.  She held it up to the diming sunlight and examined it more closely.  The four friends sat crowded around a small restaurant table.  On the far left lounged Hyun-Woo.  Of the four he could easily be called the most conventionally handsome.  His thick black hair was cut short and carefully styled, as though he was acutely aware of his striking appearance and had every intention of maximizing it fully.   His smile was confident, his eyes sharp with intelligence and an edge of determination.

Next to him, a lean and wiry Hawk sat casually resting his elbows on the blue laminate tabletop.  His slim, angular face and tawny eyes were lit up in an easy smile, and his disheveled hair, as always, was hidden beneath a black cap.  He playfully held up two fingers as he posed. 

Beside Hawk sat Min-Jae.  The youngest of the group stretched his arms high into the air in the universal sign of victory.  His round, child-like face seemed to explode with uncontainable joy.   He clutched a pair of drumsticks tightly in one fist.

At the far right sat her Seung-Bae.  Compared to his friends, his slender features were fine and delicate. With the tip of her finger, she lightly touched his image.   The small smile that twisted the corner of his mouth failed to reach his eyes.  She wondered that she hadn’t truly seen it before; the sadness that clung to him and weighed him down.  It seemed as though at any moment he would fold into himself and disappear. 

She set the picture against the base of his computer and turned away. This space was full of things. She could scarcely fathom it, how these humans settled in one space and set out a multitude of objects around them. Though she knew that, at one time, she had indulged in the same comfort – before the need to run away had taken hold.

Mounted on the wall near his closet hung three guitars: a sleek black, a white and the third a warm maple with a scratched face and worn neck.  She headed toward the last and ran her fingers across its strings. A melancholy vibration sang back at her.  It tugged at her mind, pulling from memory those easy, pleasing images that clung like wispy strands of spun candy, shiny and sweet, to her waking consciousness. 

Memories not attached to pain.

Memories from before.

Supple, wistful memories of sun-kissed Mediterranean waters, wide and endless. When they were goddesses and the flimsy wooden boats of humans were a thing so rare as to be delightful.  Of islands sprouting from the depths in offering of warm sand and ripe fruit to tempt the tongue and fill the belly.  Of exploring the thick feral undergrowth, scavenging brilliant feathers and tiny, pearly shells left behind by the native inhabitants and weaving them into long tresses in wild, spiky bunches.  Of raising voices in joyful harmony to the vain, ever-changing moon, unconcerned with consequence, for if a man dared to come close enough to hear them, he was game for the fair.

Of being sixth of seven, part of the whole, belonging, not alone.

The memories were suddenly so clear. She heard their voices and tasted the salty, sun-drenched wind. It had been so long.

Don’t forget … Her heart swelled into .

A roar battered into her reverie, and the clarity faded, effaced by the immediacy of the present. She turned away from the guitar. 

The shout had come from Min-Jae. She found him across the apartment, hunched over in front of a laptop in Hyun-Woo’s room.  A pair of headphones covered his ears, his face was tense and his eyes wild with excitement.  

“Pwned! Take that you fool!  Yeah!  That’s right!” he suddenly howled as he pounded on the keyboard. “Hyeong!  Hurry up and come play with me!” he called over his shoulder. When he saw her watching him, he froze. 

A shrill beeping sounded from the computer and he whirled back, his fingers twitching spastically over the keyboard. “Oh no you don’t, you bastard!”

She backed away.

Down the hallway, a booming melody erupted from Hawk’s room where he had hidden as soon as they had returned home earlier that afternoon, closing the door behind him. 

She pushed the door open.

He also stood over his computer.  On either side of the wide monitor, two oversized speakers had been mounted.  The deep bass that blasted beneath the song’s overlaying melody thumped against her skin, shaking her bones and threatening to knock her over.  She watched wide eyed as Hawk’s body began to jerk along with the primal rhythm, chin and elbows jutting out like some exotic bird invested in its frenzied mating dance.  

When he finally turned and saw he had an audience, he leapt back, stumbling, with an embarrassed exclamation.  Franticly, he reached over to stab at the computer keys.  The music stopped.  Face flushed, he turned back to the door, mimicking her stare for a few awkward moments.

“What?” he finally barked at her.

Arching an eyebrow, she shrugged and backed away. 

Listlessly, she made her way back into the apartment’s central living area.  Nestled next to the formal dining room, almost hidden behind the tall back of an upright piano and the stacks of instrument cases the boys kept stashed there, a staircase rose into the shadows of an upper level.

She gripped the handrail and began to climb.

Behind her, Hawk watched in silence as she disappeared around the corner.

“She went upstairs,” Min-Jae whispered beside him.  “Do you think we should tell her?”

“Let her go. If Seung-Bae wants her here, let him deal with it.”

From the foyer, the soft, distinctive beeping of the front door-lock’s electronic keypad suddenly sounded.  The boys craned their necks to see who had entered, and a moment later Eun-Mi’s cheerful smile peeped around the corner.  She kicked off her shoes and then skipped towards them, holding out the large plastic sack she carried in her hands.

“How did you get in?” Hawk sputtered incredulously.

“Seung-Bae oppa called and gave me the code so I could check on her,” she taunted. “What did you do to make him so mad?  Besides, halmeoni made kimbap so I brought some over.  Where is she?”

“Ahh yes!” Min-Jae took the sack and scanned its contents.  “I’m starving!”

Hawk nodded toward the stairs.  “She went up there,” he grumbled.

“What?” Eun-Mi’s voice lowered to a frightened whisper.  “You let her go up there?  Won’t Seung-Bae get mad?” 

Eun-Mi leaned against the railing and peered upward into the gloom.