He lay awake in bed that night for hours, looking up at the ceiling, looking over at the picture frame on his end table, looking back up at the ceiling. All signs seemed to point him toward her. The clerk at the flower stand, the pouring rain that forced them together, the places she wanted to see that he happened to know, the fact that she held his hand on Cherry Blossom Road, and now this picture frame that contained these two flowers representing fate, their fate, perhaps. But when he tried to think practically about the situation, nothing made sense. She wasn’t Korean. She didn’t speak Korean. She didn’t even live in Korea. How could a relationship with her possibly work?

He told himself that it was over and that he just needed to forget her. And he fell asleep for a little while and then woke up, then fell asleep and woke up again. In between these bursts of sleep, he thought about her. He thought about marrying her, about an extravagant ceremony with all of his friends and family, and he imagined her in different wedding gowns, her hair up, her hair down, her makeup done one way, and then another. He imagined the days after, a daily routine, waking up together, exercising, him going to work, her taking care of the children. Their children – what would they look like? He imagined cute little Korean-American babies, two or three of them. Boys, maybe a girl.

And then he reminded himself, again, that it was over. There was no way to contact her. They hadn’t exchanged phone numbers. He would likely never see her again. Why hadn’t he asked for her phone number? How was he supposed to reach her? And he realized then, that once she left the waterfall, once she woke up and walked away, he would have no idea where she was, no idea how to find her. And suddenly, he was awake, sitting up. And then he grabbed his keys and ran out the door. He nearly knocked down the cameramen who had been standing outside, talking to their team at SBS on their cellphones. When they saw Jong Kook get in his car, they quickly hopped in the van and followed him. He picked up the phone when they called, and when they asked where he was going, he told them. He said that he was going to try to make it back to the waterfall before she left.

He drove fast, hoping she would still be there. The sun had just begun to rise. He imagined her packing up her things, pulling that big pack over her shoulder, and walking away, down the road, through the village, and then disappearing forever.  

When he finally arrived at the path, t