Double Update.

The moon is fat, but half of him is missing. A ruler-straight line divides his dark side from his light. He hangs low, noticeably earlier than the night before. Autumn is coming. For as long as I can remember, I’ve talked to the moon. Asked him for guidance. There’s something deeply spiritual about his pale glow, his cratered surface. He’s always himself. And he’s always there.

Since my shift was early, I rode the bus and train home. I’m not sure why I’m so relieved to be back in my neighborhood. It’s not like the work itself was hard. But the familiarity of the chocolate-chip warmth radiating from Hot Cookie, the groups of chattering men, the early Halloween display in the window shops. I’m lucky to live in a place that’s doesn’t have to hide what it is. there’s a genuine sense of love and community. It’s a family. And like a family, everyone knows everyone’s business, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I like that the guys wave as I pass by. I like—

“MISO !”

A stab to my gut. With dread, I turn to find Park Chanyeol performing a spin move around an elderly couple entering the shop as he’s exiting. He’s carrying a carton of freerange eggs in each hand.

“Are you headed home? Do you have a minute?” I can’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah.Yeah, of course.”

As he jogs to catch up, I keep moving forward. He’s wearing a white dress shirt, a black vest, and a black tie. He’d look like a waiter, except he’s also wearing his colorful bracelets and rubber bands.

“Miso, I want to apologize.” I freeze. “I feel like a jerk, a total for . . . for putting you in that situation last week. I’m sorry. I should have asked if you had a boyfriend, I don’t know why I didn’t ask.” His voice is pained. “Of course you’d have a boyfriend. You’ve just always been this cool, gorgeous girl and seeing you again brought up this whole wreck of emotions and . . . I don’t know what to say, but I messed up, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

I’m shocked. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but it certainly wasn’t this. Park Chanyeol thinks I’m cool and gorgeous. Park Chanyeol thinks I’ve always been cool and gorgeous.

“And I hope this doesn’t make things even weirder,” he continues. “I just want to clear the air. I think you’re amazing, and being your friend that summer was the happiest summer of my life, and . . . I just want to be a part of your life. Again.” I can hardly think straight.

“Right.”

“But I’d understand if you don’t want to see me—”

“No,” I say quickly.

“No?” He’s nervous. He doesn’t understand how I mean it.

“I mean . . . we can still hang out.” I proceed carefully. “I’d like that.” Chanyeol droops with relief.

“You would?”

“Yeah.” I’m surprised by how obvious it is. Of course I want him back in my life. He’s always been a part of my life. Even when he was gone, some fragment of his spirit lingered behind. I felt it in the space between our windows.

“I want you to know that I’ve changed,” he says. “I’m not that guy anymore.” His body energetically turns to face mine, and the movement startles me. I trip toward him and smack into his chest, and one of the egg cartons drops from his hand and topples toward the sidewalk. Chanyeol swiftly grabs it before it lands.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” I say. The place where his chest touched mine burns. Every place where his body touched mine feels alive. What kind of guy did he think he was, and who is he now?

“It’s okay.” He peeks inside the carton. “No harm do