Jihyo wakes up to the same song playing every morning, but she wouldn’t know, no matter how familiar it sounds. She catches herself humming along the soft guitar notes, and smiles.

A note hung on her unicorn nightlight says ‘it seems like you know the song the neighbor plays in the morning’ .

She recognizes her handwriting, and how could she not, when she has similar notes stuck to every wall and every corner of her apartment.

‘Sana visits on Tuesdays and Thursdays’.

She looks up at the calendar in the living room,  the last date she has scratched off is ‘March, 31, Saturday’.

“I guess Sana won’t be visiting today.” She tells herself, laying down the couch, having decided to take another nap before having breakfast. Sleep is tiring.

Something feels unfamiliar, and odd loneliness washes over her, painting the walls of her small living room a painful shade of gray. The absence of something, or someone, resides between her ribcage and her beating heart. She has been lonely, that she knows, as the feeling has been accompanying her for months; but this kind of void she feels is new.

She doesn’t find an explanation to it in any of the colorful notes making home of her walls. She doesn’t fall asleep.

An hour passes before the silence gets unbearable, so she gets off the couch and heads to make herself some coffee.

Her phone lights up with a