✽ ✽ ✽

“Erm, good evening. I’m Taeyeon.”

“Hi, Taeyeon,” the group droned in unison.

Kim Taeyeon’s lip kinked into a weak smile. Every adult seated in the closed coffee house understood her struggle, the turmoil she’d faced for far too long. Nevertheless, the heels of her Keds seesawed in a soft, lonely rhythm. The sway echoed up to her shoulder-length hair, drifting fringe through her lashes like pale windshield wipers.

She blinked twice. Blinking tears, muttering, “Yeah, hi. Um, ten weeks ago, I lost my best friend.”

Taeyeon bit inside her pathetic cheek. She’d might as well sit and shut up, but she lingered.

“By choice, I live off instant ramyun and Pepero. If I’m too depressed for that, I’ll sleep from eight to dawn and then some. Home life is quiet. I mostly work.”

Pity surrounded Taeyeon. Typical.

She proceeded her introduction to Pet Mourners Anonymous.

“We uh, we-” Her white Keds rolled to a stop. “...named him Diglett. ‘Cause of his pink nose and tendency to huddle into construction pits.” After an expected few chuckles, she murmured, “A car hit him. He’d shimmied out of his collar, wandered into the road, and...”

Her hands balled into her hoodie pockets.

“I held him until he died.”

How couldn’t Taeyeon miss Diglett’s gentle grey eyes, stubby legs, bat ears, and cape-like coloring? To move on as if he’d never existed? As if he hadn’t woken her more efficiently (and adorably) than any alarm clock? Greeted her promptly after work, sneezed like a human, chased his tail-less , or tucked his short paws in when he leapt into the sea?

As if he wasn’t the best ing dog in the universe?

As if he weren’t her universe?

It wasn’t socially acceptable to be so distraught over a pooch. Or what he represented. Nobody could relate. Except this coffee house of mourners.

She considered circulating a phone image of Diglett. Any would do. But, an irrational possessiveness swept through Taeyeon’s scant frame. If her story hadn’t convinced anyone here, their ugly curiosity. She’d keep her joy to herself alone. Much easier.

And safer.

By the time Taeyeon awkwardly folded into her chair, her eyes stung of tears and shame. A faceless old lady placed a box of Kleenex on Taeyeon’s lap; her plump fingers squeezed a knee in maternal tenderness. Maybe she regularly consoled a slovenly, dismal granddaughter when she wasn’t narrating tales of her late cockatiel.

Taeyeon blew her nose without thanking her.

✽ ✽ ✽

Jessica Jung fell in the shower this morning.

Nothing fatal. No fractured bones or sprains. Hell, it barely hurt. Still, she’d suffered fifteen-too-many ‘dead single woman’ puns to not take action.

She didn’t brand herself the clumsiest of twenty-nine-year-olds. On her worse day, she made stilettos her and could successfully can-can in all-glass boutiques, if challenged. Yet, when these unfortunate occasions chimed the Reaper’s bell of lonely mortality, her younger sister intervened.

At first, Jessica rejected it. Her sister, unshockingly, persisted.

Her ashen-eyed intervention sat outside, leash secured to a bike stand.

“Charge your card?”

Startling into the eyes of a tall drink of water clad in the hardware shop’s tan vest, Jessica collected herself. These sales clerks were getting cuter and cuter. “Um, pardon?”

“Cash or credit, miss?” cute salesgirl asked slowly, rapping loud nails to the barcode scanner.

“God,”Jessica sighed, swearing to the heavens that she emphasized ‘miss’. Upon further appraisal, this child couldn’t have been older than seventeen. “Credit, please.”

Was this her life now? ing on ?

“Someone will be at your home this Sunday at noon to install a...” Cute salesgirl scanned the receipt as if she hadn’t just punched in the request. “...shower safety bar.” She raised a brow. “It gets slippery in there, doesn’t it?”

Okay. Too much. Blushing at the southward trek of her thoughts, Jessica straightened . “Will someone show me to the bath section?”

“He’ll be here in a sec.”

The hardware shop nearest to her favorite coffee house wasn’t large and tacky like the competition. Though, its aisles crammed with whosywhatsits and dohickeys overwhelmed Jessica’s non-handy brain. She’d sooner take suggestions from the pimply nerd making his way over. “I see him, thanks.”

Her morning scare as well as this checking-out-teenager thing broached another pain point: dating.

Radiating subtly classic features, a lyrical voice, and dark, swirling princess hair, she’d boasted her share of girlfriends.

Jessica Jung from a year ago excelled at dating. A little too excellent as she torpedoed herself into a headachey four-lady shuffle. After that shipwreck, even couldn’t convince her to accept lunch offers or return an alluring smile.

The big 3-0 would descend upon Jessica next year. Sticking her neck into a sea of eligibles may save her from dying alone in her apartment.

Sparing a fair gaze to the see-through doors, she followed the nerd to a selection of stainless steel.

✽ ✽ ✽

With three Pet Mourners Anonymous visits under her belt, Taeyeon treated herself to a stroll down the coffee house’s busy promenade. There’d been a time when even the possibility to seeing folks cheerfully walking their dogs turned her into a snot factory. A bumpy path to wellness awaited her; she celebrated these small steps nonetheless.

Tonight, said steps were taken in her work heels. She’d spent an extra hour organizing her office’s creative cloud, losing the time to change into comfier clothes before the PMA meeting. It’d been a voluntary commitment since the dead air between departure and the meeting was...well, dead. She showed zero interest in coworker-bonding meals, noraebang, and bar-hopping. And, thankfully, nobody hassled her about it.

Taeyeon muffled a wee sob. Who’d bother to toast beers with a widely-known mope?

She roamed listlessly, munching on dinner. Melon Pepero.

This area had strong venue potential, she surmised, sugar from her teeth. Nicely lit despite the nighttime hour with a batch of stores not too stuck up to close after sunset.

Diglett would’ve loved to walk here, exploring unusual smells, lapping at complementary dog dishes, coaxing a smile from the most miserly of bystanders. He’d been a clown—dancing his munchkin legs for attention or pieces from Taeyeon’s plate. Often grunting in a language solely his own, tongue out and wiggling in innocent joy. Never fail, he’d put Taeyeon in stitches.

Damn, she missed laughter.

Early on, Taeyeon had attended a few ‘adoption days’ at pet stores and observed kennel pups eager for a home. No avail. It further cracked her glass heart to know she was too dysfunctional to accept a dog that wasn’t specifically her Diglett.

How long would this mourning last? When would she get over his loss?

She tumbled bonelessly onto a bakery’s outside bench. The strong scent of real food caught wind, drifting a hunger to Taeyeon so irresistible, she stuffed the sad Pepero box into her purse. Surely, she owed herself a reward for tiptoeing outside her comfort zone. This weak blip of self-improvement could benefit from something substantial. Like bread.

Minutes later, Taeyeon exited the bakery with a jingle. She hardly waited to cross the street before unwrapping a healthy hunk of focaccia. It’d be better to walk to her car from the other side of the road; there could be more discoveries in store.

Flavor burst on Taeyeon’s tongue. Olive oil, herbs, dough—did anything as scrumptious exist?

She the tip of each finger, voting no.

If moments like these were guaranteed, Taeyeon may just have a shot. A shot to move on, to mingle with women again, to consume more non-processed food, to laugh, to accept the death of—

“Diglett?”

If Taeyeon wore glasses, she’d wipe the lenses to ensure her vision hadn’t crapped out. Half a block away, silver eyes regarded her with keen interest. Large, pointed ears. A pink nose speckled with black. A distinct pelt of white, grey, sable, and black fur. That long and stubby, yet sturdy build of a Corgi and Australian Shepherd mix.

How? It couldn’t be.

She’d watched him take his last breath, crying upon his body as if hysterics would revive him.

Taeyeon stood paralyzed. Bread forgotten in her palm. Neglected purse swinging. Tears prickling her eyes until the dog cocked his head a smidgen, enough t