Dragging the puppy, Wonyoung eagerly cried, “Let’s go to the arcade!” and Yujin had no choice but to follow.

They arrived at the building which had been refurbished recently, looking modern; it had lost its charm, sentimentality and nostalgia through this, as if it had erased all the happiness evoked from children years ago.

Nevertheless, the arcade burst with life: the screens of the game machines manifested into a cacophony of sparkling lights; zestful kids shrieked and ran around like a swarm of locusts; the smell of hot electronics and the taste of chips, popcorn and candy lingered in the damp air.

They both felt at home here. Yujin - being competitive – always enjoyed trying out the different games and machines. As she would be engrossed in a toy, Wonyoung stole glances and observed how she would turn back time and become like a 5-year-old again; in awe at how concentrated Yujin would be.

Wonyoung, although she enjoyed playing, was never good at it. But she didn’t mind: she saw this as an opportunity

for Yujin to teach her (Wonyoung had always helped Yujin with her academics) and relished at just the idea of spending time with Yujin. She would often think to herself, “I didn’t think losing would be so fun. There’s something nice about losing to you.”

Despite the plethora of a flashing games and toys, only one machine appealed to their eye – the claw machine. They both shared a glance and simultaneously sprinted to claim it.

The claw machine was another treasured landmark in their friendship.

“Do you remember when we played the claw machine for the first time?” Wonyoung questioned.

“Oh yeah. We told each other that we were good at it, but we spent almost 20,000 won to get a small yo-yo and that yo-yo didn’t even work”, Yujin smiled to herself as she reminisced about their past.

“Even though we lost our money, I think we made precious memories. The more we hang around and the more we spend time together, I feel like we get along with each other very well! Let’s be good friends forever!”, Wonyoung announced. Her immature voice stumbled on the word “forever”. She felt the skin of her face contract as if she had been touched by something repulsive. The words “Memento Mori” came to mind; she again felt a faint nostalgia.