“Taemin ssi, is there anything between life and death?” the boy asked.

Like every day, they sat next to the gradually warming window. Like every day, the plates were cleaned in minutes. Like every day, the cups issued steam and the coffee was a little too bitter. Like every day, the tutor smoked his way through a whole packet of cigarettes till he could calm himself enough for the rest of their lesson.

“You have the strangest questions, Minho ssi,” he amusedly answered, flipping through his book. Like every day, it turned more dog-eared and tear-stained than before. “I’m not sure, though. Why do you ask?”

“Isn’t that where I am?”

Sunlight glanced off the tall boy’s dark glasses and his fingers came to a rest on his own dog-eared and tear-stained book, its hard bumps of transcription wearing out from overuse. He smiled kindly, sensing the tutor’s eyes on him.

“Finish your reading quickly.”