Consistency:

1. agreement or accordance with facts, form, or characteristics previously shown or stated

2. agreement or harmony between parts of something complex

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People expect consistency.

The morning sun was strangely bright that Tuesday. Its rays cut through the air like a gleam-sharp knife and cascaded into the empty cafeteria like an avalanche. Only a few minutes ago, during the first break, this place had been a buzzing beehive of activity – coffees spilled, colleagues gossiped, parties retold, marriage advice given. Now, however, Kikwang was the only one there.

Truth be told, he should’ve got back to work 10 minutes ago just like everyone else did.

Plastic and white, the entire hall was practically reeking of stone-heartedness, so eerily vacant Kikwang’s very breath made an echo.

Untouched, a coffee cup gazed back at Kikwang quizzically.

In the light, you could see the cup was broken on the side, even though someone had tried to paint over the crack.

But no matter how hard you attempt to hide things, the sun reveals everything.

It suddenly occurred to Kikwang that, in fact, he was always late from the cafeteria like this. Never could he figure out why he stayed behind. Now, however, under this sun, he could sense the reason, floating just out of his mind’s reach, taunting him just like you taunt a hungry dog with a bone.

I feel like I’m forgetting something really important.

Next to Kikwang’s, another coffee was steaming on the table. From each of the twin cups a wisp of heat was rising, before the two met, attracted magnetically, twirling around each other before finally melting into one. Putting his hand over the steam, Kikwang realized with a start just how warm it was. Hotter that anything he’d ever touched – a thousand times hotter than that summer day when he had first slept with his girlfriend, now wife.

Sitting in the sun was getting uncomfortable, so Kikwang jerked down the shutters. Sighing, he threw himself back into his chair, strangely relieved at the sudden absence of light.

Finally, Yoseob made his entrance, a white shirt and a white smile.

“Yo what’s up!” Yoseob called cheerfully, voice loud and high, carelessly throwing his business case onto the table and barely missing Kikwang’s coffee.

On the other hand, Kikwang was smiling like an idiot. Yoseob was always incredibly late for work, but never seemed the least bit concerned about it – which Kikwang found strangely hilarious. So every day, they’d drink coffee by themselves – even though both were already dreadfully late.

“Not much. By the way, how do you like your coffee? I made it sweet, but I’m not sure…”

Carefully, Yoseob pulled the cup towards himself, leaning down towards it and bathing in the rich aroma and steam. A tranquil smile spread on his face, the smile of a sated cat. “Couldn’t drink it any other way.”

“You know, …” began Kikwang in a strange voice. Instantly, Yoseob grinned, knowing he was about to hear something really bizarre.

“Life is like coffee.”

Halfway into a sip, Yoseob almost spit the coffee into his coworker’s face. Instead, he managed to swallow the liquid, then burst into chuckles.

“Yah, why do you always say the weirdest of things?!” mocked Yoseob, shaking his head but smiling all the while. “Come on, Kikwang, enlighten me! Why is life like coffee?”

Kikwang shrugged. “Black and bleak.”

“Aww, why so glum?” pouted Yoseob.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea!” exclaimed Yoseob suddenly. “Why don’t we go to a club tonight? A drink to shake off the stress. And who knows, maybe our dumb luck with the girls changes for once, ne?” he winked. “To put some sugar into that bleak coffee of yours.”

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