I never face the tracks when I travel by train. I usually sit in the opposite direction, because, for some reason, it's the only way I can fall asleep. It feels like being gripped by a whirl, smashed in the movement. And if I'm awake, I can see the world from the other side, through a perspective I know few people have learnt to appreciate. It feels unique...

Sometimes, I even forget to get off the train.

It was a rainy Summer night. I remember how the wind was blowing in the trees as we passed by them in a flash. Now and then, a burst of light coming from the outside spattered on my face, as if to deny me a chance to sleep and ease my mind for a while. There was an old lady on my left, trying to read the newspaper, despite the multiple interruptions (every twenty-three seconds, I counted) of a cat, shaking in terror in its cage on the seat next to her. Some kids in the family square seats a few rows ahead were busy playing on their game console, getting all excited when one of them was losing or winning. Noisy. Restless.

I just wanted the world to shut up and stay still.

I was supposed to go home at my dad's for the weekend. 'I'm feeling a bit lonely', he'd said when I had talked to him on the phone 'But you don't have to come, you know, I can handle it.' My usually very reserved and quiet dad. Growing lonely and tired as the years went by. I had sighed, because I knew him by heart now. Besides, these days, his health wasn't at its best, so I thought it was my duty to just be there for him, maybe cook him some feel good food, and help him with basic chores. I had told him not to come pick me up at the station, as I was certain to find a taxi when I got there.

Usually, from Seoul to Jeonju, it takes about one and a half hour, sometimes two, but no more. And so, as I leaned my head on the window, eager to be home, listening to the syncopated vibrations and scraping sound of the wheels on the railway, I heard my own breathing calming down: I fell asleep around Osan at 9:27 PM.

When I woke up, I was alone, it was past midnight, and all the lights were gone.

My first reaction had been to look at the window. Raising a blind I couldn't remember pulling down, I huddled against the glass. It wasn't even Fall yet, but it was almost as cold as ice against the warmth of my hands and breath. Gazing out at no more than darkness, I tried to see if I could recognize anything... Where were we? Why had we stopped? But, then again, there was no longer such a thing as a “we”.

The coach was empty. And still, I could clearly remember seeing “Jeonju” on the ticket that the old lady was holding when we left Seoul Station. Where was the woman now?

Maybe I had missed the last stop and was now somewhere random, where they store coaches when service's off. Usually though, some people would come to check on the train, see if nothing has been forgotten aboard... or in this case, no one.

I realised I was shivering in the cold. Slowly, I put the tray table up and got off my seat. I needed to go and see if there was anyone left in the train. But the night was so dark already; we must have stopped in the middle of nowhere, and of course, the moon was not of any help, hidden as she was behind the cumulonimbus.

The corridor was silent. I d my way through the darkness, using my hands to follow the trail of seats until I could reach the closest door, hitting my knee on an armrest in the process.

The glass of the sliding door was colder than the window, if it was even possible. It was almost as if it could melt under my palms. I was struggling to find the push-button when I heard a strange ringing ring coming from the back of the coach.

My blood froze. My breath came thickly. I couldn't dare to turn around, even though I knew it was absurd of me. Was I not looking for the confirmation that I wasn't alone in this place?

Methodically, I redirected my body towards the spot I just came from, as smooth as possible, one step after the other, very aware and cautious of my every move.

It rang again. I gulped down with great difficulty. It didn't sound like anything I had heard before. Too shrill. Who would choose a ringtone no one could bear hearing, themselves included? It kept insisting and I felt the headache coming. I just wanted it to stop. Outside, the screams of the wind in the trees were still playing on repeat.

I kept moving forwards until I reached the spot where it came from. I think I knew, even before I came across that particular seat, that I wouldn't find anything there. And my heart started pounding in my ears when I got it confirmed. I ran a hand on the fabric, once, twice, three times. Nothing. I started whining in anxiety, I really don't want to be here, but tried to gather myself together. I need some water.

I don't remember how I made it to the bathroom, but I did. After I pushed that door, I could feel the cold air coming from the outside between my feet. I grabbed the sink with sweaty hands and took a look at my face in the mirror. I looked awful, as if I hadn't slept in days... Which, actually, wasn't entirely untrue. If only I could forget about– a thud interrupted my thoughts. The blood rushed from my face.

I eyed the aisle behind me, using the mirror. There was no sign of movement, but it was deeply plunged in the dark. Only then I realised, with a shock of surprise, that there was light in the room I was standing in.

Another thud.

'Wh– Who's there?' I asked aloud, hoping I was sounding firm and secure, and not a tiny bit panicked, which I was.

No one answered.

And still nothing in the mirror.

'D... Do you know why the train stopped? Where did all the passengers go?'

What on earth am I doing?

I was alone, I kept repeating myself that. All silent, all still, if it weren't for the wind. I was alone with my reflection... but for my reflection, I had the impression that someone else was watching me in the dark. Cold sweat started running down my neck.

Upon the third thud, I realised how much closer it had gotten. Until that moment, I hadn't really given a thought to the actually scary aspects of finding myself alone in a train, at night, with a stranger. I had been looking for help. But what if that person had no intention to help? What if they had something else in mind...

My guts told me to run. I got away from the mirror and stepped back, turning around in the hope to break a window in the next coach.

That's when I saw it.

Someone, or rather, something, was standing there, staring at me in the dark, completely still. How did I miss it in the mirror?! ! I saw myself, pale, facing Death, for a split second. Dressed in white clothes –shreds–, a blue halo surrounding its figure, it was looking straight at me. I wanted to doubt my eyes. It wasn't human, but it looked like... It looks like her.

It had a pallid, expressionless face, but the eyes were hers, they had the same shape, the same subtle crease of the eyelid, and that mole on the upper corner of the left eye.

Please, don't be here. Don't let me see you.

Tugging on my shirt firmly, what I felt most sad about was not the thought that I was going to die in this place, but that I was going to disappear in atrocious loneliness. The life I was holding in these hands... what had I done with it these past few years?

I froze. The thing had moved towards me. One step. It was breathing with great difficulty, almost hissing between its teeth. I couldn't move a finger.

'Jung Wheein-ssi.'

It was calling my name!

It took another step forwards raising its arm in my direction with a loud grunt.

I lost it.

Rushing to the toilets, I locked myself in. Heart pounding, head reeling, short of breath. Don't say my name, please. Not with that face!

'Leave me alone!'

This one actually slipped out by accident and I immediately regretted it.

With a loud crash, the door broke open, and I screamed. When my head hit the sink behind, I passed out.

***

She was older than me.

We met on a TV set, for some random idol's CF shooting. Might have been about chicken, I can't really remember. She was the photographer, I, the set designer. I accidentally got in her shot while trying to put back up a display I had made. I thought she would be pissed at me, and even try to have me fired –which shows how much confidence I had in myself back then. Most of the photographers I had worked with had indeed been extremely sensitive when it came to “ruining their moments”, but even after watching me bow in apologies for an eternity, she kept that odd smile on her face.

'You're cute, clumsy-ssi,' she'd said before winking at me with a click of the tongue, and turning back to roast the director about how bad the lights were.

Greasy.

That must have been the first thing I told myself, the first impression I had of her.

The second time we met was at a party. I was crashing in.

Hyejin had received an invitation from the famous model Kim Yongsun, for whom she had designed a dress a few weeks earlier. The dress had been a success, but, most importantly, the two of them had become close across their frequent meetings for fitting. Yongsun-ssi was actually much more friendly and down to earth than I had imagined a model of her class would be.

What I didn't know was that her best friend was in fact the very photographer in front of whom I had embarrassed myself two months before.

What I didn't expect was for her to remember me.

'Hyejinie, Jung Wheein-ssi, this is Moon Byulyi,' Yongsun had said, 'You may have heard of her already; her work is literally everywhere these days.'

That was when it clicked.

Moon Byulyi, the young prodigy of portrait photography. Some people in the field even said she could become “the new Annie Leibovitz” once her technique got more stable –a statement, which, I'm sure, would upset any hard-working artist who'd want to be recognised for their own name and their own name only. But she indeed used similar kinds of bold colours and puzzling lights.

I remember her whispering something in Yongsun's ear when she introduced her to us. Back then, however, I suppose I wasn't interested enough to pay attention to her words. Maybe she was telling her that she knew me... Maybe she was saying Yongsun was wasting her time talking to losers like us. Craftsmen and artists. Pick a side.

I still can't believe this was the way I saw things at the time. Young Jung Wheein was terribly insecure and convinced that influential and powerful people had hearts made of stone. If they seem interested in you, don't mingle.

As far as I remember, this was one of the most boring parties I've ever attended in my life. Hyejin obviously spent almost all the night immersing herself in Yongsun's words, –can't blame her for that, once she gets to know someone new, she really gets to know that person. I didn't know anyone there and the only person I could've talked to had a talent for hiding, apparently.

The first time my heart fluttered was when I felt a gentle hand grab my arm as I was leaving the party. Turning back, my eyes fell on Moon Byulyi's slightly crooked smile and soft gaze. I had expected some greasy or cool comment, but as soon as she opened , she sounded less sure of herself and let go of my arm to scratch the back of her neck to hide her nervousness.

And that was the cutest thing I had ever seen.

'Yo– You're leaving so soon?'

'Yes.'

'Do you need me to call you a taxi or something?'

'That's very nice of you, Moon Byulyi-ssi, but it's already waiting for me downstairs actually.'

'Oh. Well then,' she hesitated, 'I hope we'll meet again, clumsy girl. Properly this time.'

Radiant smiles are so unfair.

I was more than happy to use the excuse of annoyance over the lame nickname to hide the furious blush on my cheeks, throw a few bitter words, and run away as fast as my legs allowed me to.

I can still recall spending the whole night repeating myself that I didn't believe in love at first sight. I don't believe in love at first sight. Still don't, Byulie.

The third time we met, the odds had been extremely lenient. Seoul is a big city, you see, and the probabilities for you to encounter someone you know in a neighbourhood you don't usually frequent are close to zero. But it happened.

She was jogging around Gyeongui Line Forest Park and passed by me as I was heading for Hongik Station. I can still see it, as in a slow-mo effect. She stopped a few steps further, turned back, and, panting hard, took her earphones off.

'Wheein-ssi! How unexpected, hi!'

'Hello, Moon Byulyi-ssi.'

She laughed at my greeting, but I was too busy trying not to let my eyes wander over her toned stomach (made visible by the crop top she was wearing) to really pay attention. Usually, sweaty people repulse me. I mean, they repulse anybody. But what I was feeling had nothing to do with that.

'Please, call me Byul,' she said, goofy smile and all.

I choked myself back to reality.

'I– I can't do that, unnie!'

'Why? I'm sure we'll get much closer soon anyway.'

What the actual...

I remember that air of panic on her face, as she realised what she'd just said.

'Oh, no no no! Forget that I even said that!' She gave herself a light slap on the forehead, ' I mean no! Don't forget. I do want us to get closer, but I don't mean it in a weird way or anything. I mean I'm not a weirdo or, –well a weirdo maybe, but not a ert, I swear. I wouldn't want you to think that I... that we... that–'

'Moon Byulyi,' I chuckled, 'get to the point please.'

My own boldness surprised me.

'cannabayouadrink?'

She had spoken so fast. And she looked like she was about to pass out, which had me worried.

'Sorry, what did you say?'

'Oh gosh– Would you like to have a drink with me, someday?'

'Oh...'

I wasn't prepared for neither the invitation, nor the genuinely expectant look that came with it. But, here again, did people actually say “no” to her often? Did I actually want to say “no” myself?

'Ah, nevermind,' she said, a disappointed look in the eyes, 'this was really silly of m–'

'Yes!'

Up to this day, I can't forget the expression of shock on her face.

'Really?'

'Yes.'

The second time my heart fluttered was when she hid her face in her hands, both in disbelief and embarrassment, trying way too hard to hide the blush on her cheeks.

It's something I've always liked about her. On the outside, she's like this absolutely tough, cool and charming person others respect and can even find intimidating. But if you scrape under the surface a bit, she transforms into this hesitant, fragile, and sweet girl. I think that's actually why we matched so well. I lacked the strong and secure appearance, but our hearts were pretty much beating in sync.

On our first date, we drank a lot. I fell in the Cheonggyecheon creek as we were walking by the waterside, and she jumped to get me out of it... which probably hurt like hell because the creek is really not that deep. Eventually, we were both soaked and drunk, and laughing like idiots in the middle of the water, surrounded by the fish.

You know, in movies, when the protagonists are secretly into each other, and they're sort of having a moment, laughing, and suddenly, for no reason, they stop and get trapped into each other's eyes and then... yeah.

Our first kiss was wet, and cold, and messy. Water was dripping from her hair on my nose and I was losing my balance. It only took a few seconds for us to fall again. And we knew, wrapped in each other's arms, that we couldn't let go. That things had changed.

Our first kiss tasted like alcohol and home, and butterflies... and I loved that. It had this feeling of relief you get when you come down from the car in a familiar place after a long absence and breathe in deeply, telling yourself “Finally, I have arrived”.

Oh, Byulie, we had so many beautiful years together.

Thousands of memories, and pictures, and a large amount of breakfasts in bed, or walks in the park. We had the most amazing friends, and we got to visit so many places. We couldn't agree on which pet to adopt, so we went with two: a dog (for you), and a cat, for me. In the end, the cat liked you more than me, and the dog spent all of his days watching over me carefully from his basket.

Sure, it wasn't all rainbows and butterflies. Your family never accepted me as your partner in life, and you got estranged from them... for me. And I could see it pained you greatly, but you never complained, not even once. You just kept making sure I was happy, and healthy, and loved. And I sure didn't need a ring to be reminded of that, but I'm still glad you thought about that too. We never got married, –we never could have here anyway–, but our souls did. They had tied the knot long ago I think, on that day when I got in your shot and you called me “clumsy”.

I loved you. You loved me. It could've been the most beautiful fairy tale ever written.

But it was stolen from us.

It was a rainy Summer night, pretty much like this one.

We were driving back home after having spent the weekend at Yongsun's cabin near Suncheon –she had always been in love with the bay, and it sure looked like heaven on earth when the sunset spread its red light on the valley. Usually, we would've waited until morning to hit the road, but Byul had a photoshoot very early the next day, and I was also supposed to meet with a new director for work: I had been asked to design a film set, and that was the most exciting offer I had had in months. So we took the car.

We were halfway home when we came across a damaged truck on the side of the road... just on the edge of a ravine. Two of the wheels were already hanging loose, and the truck was dangerously swaying. I thought, –or maybe I hoped– we would keep going, for I had a bad feeling about all this, but Byul stopped the car abruptly, reversed a bit, and flashed the headlights on the truck.

'I think I saw someone,' she'd said, turning her face towards me.

We glanced at each other, communicating silently. I knew what she had in mind, and she knew I had figured her out. She untied her seatbelt, and was aiming for the door when I grabbed her arm. She could tell I was scared, and all I wanted to do was scream “Don't go”, but she just smiled, kissed me on the forehead –she always did that when she had to leave and knew I didn't want her to–, and whispered “It's going to be alright.”

And that was the first time she ever lied to me.

Why didn't I say anything? Why didn't I beg her to stay? We could've been home, together.

There was a young man in the truck. He was still alive, but he needed help and quickly. Byul tried to get him out gently, but the vehicle was so unstable on its grounds, it could have tumbled into the void any moment.

Byul gestured at me, asking me to call an ambulance. There was no network in the car, so I went out and took a few steps away from it, from Byul, and from the truck. I kept my eyes on her the whole time. Right on her. The knot in my stomach was hurting like crazy.

Everything happened in a flash. I was on the phone with the hospital when the truck finally fell in the ravine, carrying both Byul and the boy away with it.

Take 1 Take 2

The world became silent.

Flash

My mind went blank. The earth was quaking.

Lights Camera Action

I dropped the phone and started running.

I saw her fall, slowly, in the darkness.

CUT.

'BYUUUUUUUUUUUUUL!!!'

When the help arrived, I was kneeling on the edge, looking at the truck down the ravine. I couldn't make a single sentence, and I couldn't tear my eyes off it.

There was rain, and blood, and gasoline. And I was alive. And I didn't want to be.

I passed out a few minutes later.

***

'Wheein? Wheein, love, can you hear me?'

The voice was low and a bit hollow. It had nothing to do with the hissing whisper that had caused me to hide in the bathroom and hit my head earlier.

I opened my eyes under the blinding light of the surroundings. I was lying in a bright room, though it was not really a room, since there didn't seem to be an end to it. The floor was white, the 'ceiling' was too, but here and there, simply randomly scattered, were elements of the train I had gotten on. The sink, for instance, was still there, attached to some part of a wall. So was the seat I had fallen asleep on, a bit further, but not even a third of the coach.

And the longer I looked, the more there was to see: elements of the train, but also elements from places I had been to, from the apartment we used to share, from the creek where she had kissed me for the first time, from the TV set we had met on... the truck.

Was it some kind of fantasy that showed you what's inside your heart? And all was still, even the objects that should have been moving. It was as if bits of time had gathered in this big empty place.

'What's that noise?' I asked aloud, unintentionally.

'Memories,' my heart jumped at the unexpected answer, 'Fragments of our life together.'

I turned my face towards the owner of the voice. Her face was perfectly normal looking, if it weren't for its slight pallor. But all traces of a blue halo and of a threatening aura were gone. Instead of the expressionless creature I had encountered on that train stood the love of my life, as I remembered her to be: sweet and happy.

I could not restrain a sob.

She stretched a shaking hand, unsure if she had the right to touch me or not. I got on my knees and pressed her palm on my cheek, eager for a contact that was long lost... but there was nothing more than cold and insensitive skin and bones now. Ah, I suppose she's really dead after all.

'Did you forget about me?' she asked, with a wavering smile.

'Don't be stupid. You're in my mind 24/7.'

'Right...'

She laughed, and I swear she looked nothing like the ghost from a moment ago. Her face and her expressions felt so alive, her arms so inviting, as they had always been. And she was just standing here, scratching her head and chuckling for no reason. Why did she have to be her goofy self, even in death?

'Did you forgive me then...?'

'...'

I didn't know the answer to this question yet.

The air felt heavy here, thicker than in... was it, reality? Should I call it like that? Was it all just a dream? If so, I didn't want to wake up again.

'Please, Wheein, you have to.'

When did she learn how to read my mind?

'Byul?' I said, after a while.

'Yes, my love?'

'Were we always supposed to come apart?'

'I can't know that Whee... no one can.'

'I thought... I thought we were going to have it all, y'know. The best, and for a lifetime.'

'Well, it wasn't all bad, was it?'

'How can you say that when you're dead!'

She sighed, and that annoyed me the most, because she always does –well, did– that to prove me wrong. She turned back, spread her arms and started spinning slowly, embracing the moment.

'Where do you think we are right now?'

I hesitated.

'I don't know, some sort of limbo I guess... An in-between. I know you're not really here, but it feels real.'

'It is. It's happening... for you. Inside you.'

There was a long silence during which she simply looked at me in adoration. And I knew my own expression was only a reflection of hers.

'Wheein, you have to let me go,' she finally said.

I lowered my head. I knew it would come down to this.

She got closer. Her fingers came to gently lift my chin up, and I curled my shaking hand around her wrist. All I wanted was to melt in her brown eyes and never leave their prison.

'...for good.'

Every breath felt heavy and my head was pounding. I hated this. I hated her. How could she say something like this? She was the one who had left me here, alone, unable to surround myself with her scent, her arms, her laughters, her lips. How could she say this to me with those eyes, looking at me like she did on the day we first met. I wanted to be mad at her... But I couldn't.

'I would have followed you to the moon and back if you had asked me to.'

'I know.'

'I would have killed and lied for you.'

'I know.'

'I... I would have died for you, if you had asked me to.'

She put her arms around me and kissed my forehead. I realised I was crying.

'And now you're going to live for the both of us.'

My headache was getting worse. The light started to flicker, pieces of the ceiling were crumbling all around us. I pulled her closer, desperately, but even her body was starting to fade away. It looked like the world was splitting up, but I couldn't hear anything except for the beating of my heart.

'Wheein.'

'Byul, I'll–'

'It's time baby, you have to–'

I have to let go.

I have to let go.

I...

'I'll always love you, Byul.'

The last thing I remembered was her smile when she nodded at me.

***

When I woke up, I was in a train, on a seat next to an old lady and her cat. I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath as I stretched my arms above my head. I could still feel the pain on the side of my skull.

'Everything's alright, dear?' the lady asked, looking at me with concern. 'You must've hit your head pretty hard.'

I didn't understand.

'What do you mean, ajumma?'

'You hit your head when the train stopped under the tunnel. I called your name a bunch of times –I read it on your ticket. I thought you had a concussion, or even, that you had lost consciousness, but no, you were just sleeping like a baby!'

'The train stopped?'

'Yes, there were workers on the railway.' She looked at me with a suspicious eye, 'You are quite a heavy sleeper... you're not drunk, right?'

'No... No, I haven't had a single drop of alcohol in... 3 years.'

I looked at the window. Outside, the rain had stopped and the wind had calmed down. High in the sky, shining bright upon us, the Moon was dressed in her blue sparkles.

Up to this day, I still don't know what happened to me... all I know is that I never face the tracks when I travel by train. I usually sit in the opposite direction, because, for some reason, it's the only way I can fall asleep.