Monday, 4:12PM
21 May

My heels click along the sidewalk as I keep in step with my cat. Fibi pulls on the leash, and I try to keep the rough texture from sliding through my fingers.

School had been a strenuous day. The only thing that could relieve me from it all was to take a walk and let the fragrance of fresh air hit my face. The walk would turn more into a jog with my small companion, the almost visible enthusiasm radiating waves from her body.

She would stop every now and then to take a bite of the grass. She continued to move on to different patches as if she couldn’t decide whether or not she liked the forest green or the chartreuse colored ones better. I followed her patiently while she roamed through the park full of only empty benches and scattered trees.

I sighed, thinking how my life needed a little more “spice” other than the occasional sight of drama-filled bickering between couples in my daily stroll with Fibi. I looked down at her, noticing the interest in her eyes. I followed hers with mine, noticing she was targeting a butterfly. My breath hitched, knowing that this would trigger her animalistic side, and she would start trying to pounce.

I gripped her leash tighter when I felt her muscles twitch. She hauled herself forward, and I soon felt the leash burning to set itself free from my hand. Flinching, I compliantly let it go.

Fibi ran after the flying monster, and I had realized that she was moving further and further away from me. Panicking, I chased after her like she was the butterfly. The problem was that I was wearing heels since I didn’t change from the clothes I wore to my classes. Not the ideal shoes to be running in.

The sight of her jumping with her paws stretched upward was almost out of my vision. I stumbled faster, hoping to catch up. After running for what seemed like ten minutes, but was probably only three, she was visible. The butterfly had obviously been much faster and stealthier than her, being that it could fly. I was less than 20 feet from Fibi now, and I noticed she was still aiming for the quick butterfly. I also noticed that it decided to settle down. Next to a young person sitting on a park bench.

It was a man with a small black dog. He was curiously looking at the butterfly, but the dog seemed less interested, instead half-asleep on the ground by the boy’s feet. Neither had seen Fibi darting towards them.

I wasn’t convinced that she would completely disregard the pair. She was still a cat, normally frightened of dogs.

Sadly, she couldn’t hear the words of, “Bad kitty!” going through my mind. I was worn out from running after her. Nevertheless, that wasn’t going to stop me from stopping her. She was nearing the butterfly, but I was also right behind her tail.

When we were close enough, Fibi jumped towards the bench. Luckily, she finally got the butterfly in the cage of her claws. While in the process of capturing her prey, her nail scraped across the man’s clothed knee.

As for me, I also continued to stagger closer, embarrassed. I was relieved that I hadn’t fallen on my face like a fool while running. But I spoke too soon.

I shuffled closer to grab this senseless cat of mine. I was actually walking, and I tripped over my own feet, flustered. I foolishly closed my eyes, ready for an impact to the soil. However, what came next was such a cliché that I still can’t believe it.

He caught me in his arms. Unlike in the fake stories, it wasn’t in a romantic embrace. He just reached out and his strong hands were at my waist. His chest was an inch from my back, and I could feel his moderately warm breath tickling at the nape of my neck. We stood there for a while, him just above the bench, and me unbalanced and sideways.

I flushed, realizing how stupid I probably seemed. I moved my body into an upright position and grabbed his hands with my clammy ones. I lifted them until they hovered just above my waist. I turned around and our bodies were facing each other. I fumbled to switch his right hand into my left and his left into my right so that our arms weren’t crisscrossed. Robotically, I finally moved his hands away from my waist and released them when they were almost back at his sides.

For the first time, I looked up at his face. He was a pretty boy.

“I’m so sorry!” I bowed deeply, unsure of what I was exactly apologizing for.

I was still bent over when I watched him shift from foot to foot and move his arm upward. I stood completely straight and saw that he was also properly upright. His palm was laid on the top of his head, his elbow bent at an angle, and his eyes averted towards Fibi. She couldn’t read the awkward atmosphere as she was too busy looking satisfied at the future meal she was playing with. It seemed more like torture than fun for the insect.

I brought my attention back towards him. All I could do was stare at his blemish-free face while waiting for his answer. Some might say I was captivated.

I turned away to examine the dog he was with. It was, strangely, still sleeping. I started thinking of what it could be dreaming about to be in such a deep sleep as to not wake up at the complete chaos that was happening.

I turned my gaze back to the man in front of me when I heard a puff of breath come out of his slightly pink lips.

He moved his body to face me and our eyes met. He smiled politely, but that was all.

That was all, but I still couldn’t help but try and brush away the pink dusting my cheeks. As if batting it away would do the trick.

“Are you okay? Are you dizzy?” His voice was laced with concern and strands of silk. He offered his hand out thoughtfully, thinking I needed support for balance.

I swallowed the lump in my throat that was threatening to keep me from talking. I ignored his outstretched hand. “’Are you okay?’ I think that’s my line.”

He looked a bit puzzled and pulled his hand back. I pointed to his knee. I could tell that he didn’t notice it at all until now, that he had just become aware that the scratch was there and bleeding.

I should start t Fibi’s nails.

He lifted his foot off the ground to get a better view of his injury. My eyes lingered back to his face that was still observing the cut. He pursed his lips together and looked back up towards me while laying his foot back where it was.

I raised my eyebrows in question.

“It’s fine. It’s just a graze,” he reassured.

“She… she cut through your pants…” I wasn’t convinced. I had been scratched by Fibi before. This guy was making it difficult for me to feel less worried.

He only nodded.

“The pants look expensive.” My eyes widened a little. I accidentally voiced my selfish thoughts out loud.

“You’re worried about the cost and not my well being?” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. I could tell he was secretly trying to hide a smile.

Or was it a smirk?

I pretended to be offended, even though he should be the one to feel that way. “Of course not! I was just pointing it out.”

His lips twitched upward.

It was a smile. An amused one.

Why do his lips keep coming to my mind? They’re quite attractive and attention-drawing.

I smiled back, relieved. The friendly feeling lingered in the air some more before I heard strange noises. It was Fibi. I didn’t notice that she already finished her snack. She was acting odd, though. Her head was bobbing backward and forward, backward and forward. The noises were coming from . It was then that I realized what was happening. She was about to throw up. To my chagrin, she does that often.

I was about to reach for her, but it was already too late. The abnormal shaped vomit spilled from and past the edge of the bench. I expected it to land on the grass. That was also what I had thought would have happened to me earlier when I tripped.

Things never go the way I anticipate them to.

The spew was resting on the shoe of the man I just became friendly with.

That was totally going to ruin everything.

I didn’t dare to look up at his expression. I reached out to pick up Fibi’s leash. I hadn’t been holding it since she ran away. That was risky. I wouldn’t want something like this to happen again. I’d rather not have people hating me, referring to me as “the crazy lady with the crazy cat.”

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. I could almost feel the bile rush to my own throat.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but my mind was blank. I had no idea what to do.

I wish my head could clear like this during tests in English Literature.

All I could do was continue to stare down at the pile in disgust.

“First my pants and now my shoes,” he spoke up. I could hear a bit of distress in his voice, but he didn’t sound quite angry.

“I’m so sorry,” I muttered rather than shouted like the first time I apologized to him.

Why do I have to keep apologizing to him?

Such a stupid cat.

He quickly exhaled and picked up his foot. He tilted it slightly, causing the retch to slowly slide to the left and down his shoe. There was still mire visible, but most of it was now lying in the grass. I only hoped that the butterfly wasn’t in there.

I tried not to smell through my nose, thinking that if I did, I would really start spitting up. I turned my waist to reach into the bag I was carrying on my shoulder and pulled out a small, convenient pack of tissues. I knew they would eventually come in handy.

I wasn’t sure if I should bend down and start wiping his shoe or if I should ask him to take it off. Both might be considered aberrant.

I lowered my hand timorously before bringing it up to his face in embarrassment. “Here,” I murmured.

He nodded in appreciation and grabbed the white cloth. His hand was warmer than it was when it was on my waist earlier.

Was that good? Bad?

“I see you have good control over your cat,” he half-joked. I could tell he was trying to make the atmosphere less tense.

It worked.

“I think she should be the one to have more control of what comes out of .”

He thought about it while leaning down on one knee to wipe off his dirtied shoe. It reminded me of a proposal position.

“Good point,” he simply replied. I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. He stopped attending to his shoe to look up at me with a smug face.

I let my eyes linger on him for a little longer before casting them over to the dog he was with. “It’s pretty strange that he’s still sleeping.”

“She is,” he corrected. “That’s Jang Boah. She’s not my dog. I’m walking her for my friend. I don’t know what’s going on with her obsessive sleeping disorder,” he admitted.

“This is Fibi,” I motioned towards the spot on the grass where she was sitting, sniffing at the spill. I yanked at her leash to make sure she wasn’t trying to eat it. “She’s mine. I still don’t know what’s wrong with her.” I shrugged half-heartedly.

He extended the introductions. “I’m Suhoon,” he said with an insignificant nod.

He pulled his back leg up so that he was kneeling on both of his shins, careful not to accidentally touch the drying vomit settled in the grass.

He said his name so casually. Was this an invitation to meet again? Thoughts like this fluttered through my heart, hoping for a positive answer.

“Yun Hee,” I replied, trying to be as nonchalant as him. I watched him carefully. He was still on the ground, but his eyes were sparkling. It couldn’t be the stars reflecting in them.

I realized then that it was probably late. I should be rushing home by now.

“I think I have to go now.” I pulled my phone out of my shoulder bag. The coldness of the surface brought me even further into the real world.

He rose to his feet to try and get a view of the time.

“It’s already past five. My parents are expecting me,” I say before thinking of how childish that sounded. I didn’t feel like explaining further.

He nodded again, considerate.

I wasn’t sure how to take my leave. There are different gestures that people make during their departure. Depending on the relationship the two people have, appropriate farewells will be given.

But, what kind of relationship do we have?

None.

I tightened my grip on Fibi’s leash, readying her to start walking. I smiled a last time at the person in front of me. He still seemed like a stranger, even though I now knew his name. I even knew his friend’s dog’s name.

Maybe I was imagining things, but he seemed to be unwilling to part the same way I was. I backed up, slowly, to see any reaction he might have.

He raised his hand, his slender fingers each arched to some small degree as a goodbye. The corners of his mouth turned into a small smile that I saw until I finally turned my back to leave.

The last I saw of him was his smile reaching his eyes. Secretive, as if they were both easily able to be concealed.