Kyungsoo shyly knocked on the door, the name Lee Youngmi, Chairwoman etched on the signage so he knew he was at the right place. He clutched at the bouquet of flowers in his hand nervously, thinking to come about five minutes early for his initial interview, to volunteer for the soup kitchen for the homeless during weekends.

No one coerced him to do this. He simply told Dr. Kwon Bo-ah, the psychiatrist he had been having therapy sessions with for the last twelve months, that he wanted to do something more meaningful with his spare time. And now he was here, on the 27th floor of the prestigious Yookshipil Building at the heart of Seoul, praying that he was dressed formally enough in his plaid button-down polo and khaki pants. 

“Come in.”

Kyungsoo swallowed and turned the knob, immediately bowing low when the leather chair turned to face him, and one of the warmest smiles ever to graze his presence unfolded.

“Do Kyungsoo-ssi?”

Kyungsoo nodded, bowing again, giggling just a bit as pink flush dusted his squishy cheeks. He approached the woman, when she stood up to meet him half-way, and Kyungsoo had the mind to give her the flowers he had brought, which broadened the smile on the chairwoman’s pretty face.

“Oh, they’re lovely!” The chairwoman complimented, sniffing them in appreciation. “You didn’t have to bring me anything, you sweet boy.”

Kyungsoo chuckled. “Um, I wanted to, Lee hojangnim. I think your charity work is really admirable.”

It was the chairwoman’s turn to blush herself as she set the bouquet down on the table and asked the young boy to sit down.

“So this interview is simply formality, as I chat with every volunteer who expresses interest to help us out. I asked you to come down here so I could get to know you a little better,” the chairwoman began kindly. “Dr. Kwon is a good friend of mine, and she wouldn’t have sent a recommendation letter unless she didn’t think highly of you.”

Kyungsoo subtly scratched his head, getting more embarrassed. “You do know that I’m one of her patients?”

“Yes,” the chairwoman answered immediately. “And she had to disclose to me the reason... hopefully you don’t mind.”

“Aniyo,” Kyungsoo replied truthfully, shaking his head. “I don’t mind at all. While I don’t tell people outright that I had a heart transplant, there are occasions where it is appropriate to reveal it. I may not be able to carry heavy things, due to my physical strength not being my best asset, but I believe my cooking skills are.”

To this, Kyungsoo heard the chairwoman’s amused laughter.

“But everything is fine?” The chairwoman clarified, her almond-shaped eyes showing genuine concern for him. “With your health, I mean?”

“So far, so good. I haven’t had a relapse or anything, which was to the relief of my family. I’m responding well to my medications and all forms of therapy. I feel almost normal,” Kyungsoo admitted, giving her a small grin. “Or at least, as normal as my life could get.”

“What about friends? Social life?”

Kyungsoo had to look down on his lap, fidgeting with his hands. “I had been in the hospital more times than I was out of it when I was 15 to 19 years old. I’ve... never been able to nurture any substantial friendships because I’ve had to stop studying and take online examinations instead. Some of my childhood friends are back in Ilsan and we still communicate through SNS. My family moved here in Seoul for me to get better medical treatment when I first diagnosed.” He shrugged. “I guess my best friend right now is my older brother, who would usually come home from work after I fall sleep.”

The chairwoman looked at him sympathetically. “Well, there are plenty of people to meet when you volunteer with us in the soup kitchen, unfortunately, just not in your age group.”

“That is fine, Lee hojangnim,” Kyungsoo assured, his grin turning into a full smile now. “It’s always been easier to talk to pe