At the of dawn roosters crowed; time to wake up. Or maybe even earlier. Except no animal was crowing. It was the mental alarm waking her up.

Kicking over the thin white sheets she always nagged about, slender legs slid over the bed, feet searching for landing before her body followed. Digging blindly through the dimness for her clothes, Kim Namjoo picked up skin tight jeans and a t-shirt bearing a logo too inappropriate for the general public.

Pulling the jeans on with some difficulty she yanked the zipper up and completed the metallic button. A blur washed over her eyes she quickly blinked away. Behind her the animal-like snore rumbled into the flat pillow. Peering over her shoulder she hissed at the man asleep in bed who’d stolen most of the blanket from her through the night. Blinding herself stupid from the sunlight starting to streak through his too thin curtain. Damn sheets never making an effort to darken the room for a good night’s sleep.

She hated his crummy apartment yet still visited one time too many. Curse herself, too.

Slipping into her Angel shirt – a gift courtesy of her roommate Kwon Chaeri “Don’t you love it? You’re welcome!”

“Uh…thanks.” Was her flattest reply though she’d been internally mortified.

Hopping on one foot jerkily, she struggled to slip into her sock. Her balance , too. Blowing a breath up into her bangs she planted hands on her hips exhausted from the effort. Finally grabbing her phone off the blue carpeting, she made a run out of there. The door slammed with a boom after her, which was sure to wake him up, but she could care less.

Dashing down the steel staircase of his second-floor apartment, Namjoo leapt onto the cracked sidewalk and sprinted across the empty street. Early this morning her hometown of Goseong was already awake. Businesses opening. Smoke churning from restaurant vents into the sky. Elder ladies sitting outside chatting.

“Morning, young lady.” They’d greet whenever they saw her and she would wave in greeting, shouting, “You’re up early today!”

Several beat up cars always made their daily trip out of town for business; their engines spitting like an ill man hoarsely coughing, threatening to blow. Goseong was a lovely, quaint town on the edge of South Gyeongsang, the booming city bursting with tourism. They weren’t rural, but there were farms near the countryside boasting of cows, goats, chickens, and horses; the generic farm animals.

Her hometown was famous for its surrounding mountains and luscious tree lined roads. Warm and mild all year round because of its oceanic climate. Family business, mainly shipbuilding, were generally passed down through generations, but nowadays the children preferred to move to bigger cities instead of inheriting from those passed. City dwellers in debt or searching for new starts moved in once in a while, searching for a new beginning. Those that did often ended up employed in the factories that kept the city running.

Namjoo had grown up in one of the clusters of blue roofed white buildings. A home with two cramped bedrooms, the tiniest kitchen, an even smaller living room where the television took majority of the space. The walls were so thin she could always hear what her parents were doing at nights. By that it was not the deed they were doing. Her parents bickered like parrots, arguing constantly about money, life, work, friends, family, the community, the suffocation of a small knitted town with not enough resources; whatever, really.

Living close to the edge of the ocean provided plenty of scenic beaches. Clear blue on sunny days. Dark and gloomy on stormy days. Her father hated the seaside. Her mother loved it. She may have taken after her mother, but ironically it was her mother that chose to move away.

Namjoo’s favorite place was the express highway that curved around the ocean, circled around town, and all the way back to the waters. The heavy thrush, greens, wild plants on the left while the blue burst on the right.

Running past a straight row of low buildings, Namjoo raced a roaring bus to her apartment, a rental on the second-floor of a fabric shop. She shared the apartment with college mate Kwon Chaeri. Graduated together and now lived together, because the friend had fallen in love with the oceanside she claimed. But seriously, she just didn’t want to go back to the big city to live with her parents. In that perspective, Namjoo highly sympathized.

Parents just suffocated the life out of a person.

Hurrying up the sweeping staircase at the right of the yellow shop, Namjoo’s keys jingled as she unlocked the silver knob. A twist and she nearly tripped over the threshold, cursing. Kicking her shoes off she crossed the path between the living room stuffed with a two-seater, a low coffee table in front of the television set; the small kitchen on her left partitioned with a waist high counter. This morning Chaeri had left her sweater strung over a chair at the kitchen table. An irritancy to Namjoo. But the roommate was not home right now, so Namjoo would nag later.

Stripping out of her shirt, Namjoo flung her two-door Maplewood closet open. Dresses, blouses, pants hung above. Jeans, socks, her in three sectional drawers below. Which was all her bedroom really allowed other than her twin bed. Not much space, but better than living at home. Right across from her was the bathroom. Chaeri slept in an identical room beside hers.

Throwing on a dress, Namjoo pulled off her jeans and kicked them aside. Clean up later, because in a half hour she would be late for work. No time to shower, because what the heck. Spraying a heavy amount of perfume on, she returned the way she came. Into flats and she was out.

An ugly gray Camry was parked off to the side, a very small lot she paid for monthly that sat right next to the staircase. Offered by the shop owner, of course. Mrs. Lee’s shop was small and an individual business, so by renting out the apartment above and the parking lot she made extra money to get by. As what her mother used to say, “Helping your neighbor.” but the woman no longer lived here.

The used car spit and groaned as Namjoo started the engine and reversed out of the lot. Don’t die she prayed for if it did, she’d go after the garage owner that had sold it to her, crying that she’d been scammed.

Thankfully, it survived until she arrived at Goseong’s Elementary school just in time as the friendly bug-eyed designed bus pulled up. Creepy really, but the kids loved it. Their pure innocence always fluttered hearts.

Cheery screams echoed as the teacher climbed out and helped the tiny ones out. Energetic things jumping and flinging their arms as they raced inside the homey brick building. The doors had been repainted white the year prior, the paned windows updated, and the linoleum yellow floors waxed. From afar the school was a replica of a plastic Barbie playhouse boldly designed to the taste of little girls.

“Hi, Miss Namjoo!” The kids waved as she passed.

“Hello!” Her voice went up a notch, waving in reply, smiling brightly. She was a teacher’s aide. Mainly her duty was to look after the kids, play with them, prepare their lunches, and help see them off at the end of each day. Easy peasy.

This was what she did for a living.

In the morning, she sat with the children and sang a song. In the afternoon, she went from table to table exclaiming over their drawings. Then she prepared lunch. Cutting up fruit for dessert, sparingly dishing each plastic plate, transferring them onto a tray, and bringing them to each child. Sometimes, she took naps with them or sat outside with the teachers to enjoy the light breeze and chat. At the end of the day it was her job to ride the bus with them and make certain each child was picked up by their parent.

That was what she was currently doing. Enthusiastically clapping while singing from the front seat of the bus, followed by the overly excited chorus of high-pitched screaming. The children seemingly competing with each other to be the loudest. Namjoo noticed the bus driver had stuffed ear plugs deep into his ears.

A glance out the window and she spotted the stop sign, their stop. A group of women were gathered. Most of their mouths as busy as the children’s. What were they so excited about?

“Who’s ready to go home?” Namjoo called out.

“Me!”

“Me!”

Tiny bodies jiggled, jumping, and shouting continuously in their seats. Wearing gigantic smiles, small arms sprouting into the air. Adorable children. Innocent things.

The bus jolted softly to a stop and the door hissed open. Namjoo hopped off first to help each child down. Several of the boys leapt onto the sidewalk causing their mother to yelp, surprised.

“Bye bye, Miss Namjoo!” A tiny arm waved as his mother led him off.

Namjoo waved and turned to help the next child until they all had emptied the bus. A peek in, a glance back and she spotted a lone child standing on the walk. A small girl in a dress with her tiny pink backpack staring down the sidewalk. Trailing after her gaze and Namjoo saw no mother waiting for her.

“Where is your mother?” Namjoo crouched down with hands on knees to ask.

No reply.

“Are you done?” The bus driver called out. The old man was already twisting his wrist, peering at his ticking watch. Probably needed a smoke break after bearing with the noisy children.

That had been her father, too. Often leaving the house to smoke outside whenever her mother returned from grocery shopping. And he’d be outside for twice the time she’d been gone. Left cursing and murmuring angrily as the woman prepped a meal that would be gone in less than the time it took to cook.

Namjoo stared longingly into the empty bus, her ride back to the school where her car was. Heaving a sigh, she told, “If you can’t wait, you go first.”

He didn’t even hesitate before closing the doors and drove off. Namjoo hissed underneath her breath. Back to the girl whose hair was neatly tied into uneven piggy tails, both hair ties mismatched. On purpose? Namjoo cocked her head.

Namjoo knew all the children in her class, but this one she didn’t recognize. So quiet. Maybe that was why she hadn’t recognized her during the day. Was she new?

Returning to her, Namjoo crouched till her knees leveled her shoulders. “What is your name?”

Chubby cheeks. Pretty pink lips. A button nose. Something about her eyes felt familiar.

Namjoo prodded in case she was intimidating the child. “I’m Miss Namjoo. Can you tell me your name?”

The girl pouted, puffing out her small lips. Swaying where she stood. Her eyes lowered to the sidewalk. Still refusing to talk.

Namjoo wondered what to do. “All right then, but let’s move away from the road, ok? It’s dangerous. Come on.” She extended a hand and waited. It took maybe 10 seconds for the girl to barely touch her fingertips. Deeming that enough, Namjoo led her away from the street toward the trees to wait.

Five minutes passed. No one showed up. Namjoo looked at her phone then slid down to crouch again.

“Your mom’s really late, huh?” Namjoo asked. “It’s ok. Mommy must be really busy. When I was smaller, my mommy used to be really late, too.”

Namjoo stared into the tiny girl’s face and smiled comfortingly. Tomorrow she would inquire about the child’s mother. If she was late picking up her child constantly, how irresponsible. What about the father?

“Seulbi!” A voice shouted. Footsteps thudded faintly then louder. Perking up, Namjoo immediately stood ready to have a faceoff with the child’s parent. Instead coming face to face with someone that had left years ago.

Her big eyes rounded. “Sehun?”

Coming to a stop panting, the familiar person’s eyes flickered to her then to the daughter immediately clinging onto his leg, crying, “Daddy!”

And like that the wave in her heart instantly crashed into dread. Mentally backpedaling Namjoo chalked a line. Bursting into relieved tears, Namjoo watched Sehun pick up his daughter who wrapped legs and arms securely around him. Rubbing her back to console her.

This image…Namjoo had never foreseen it.

“Sorry,” he said, “I have to go.”

“Oh yea…” she murmured as he whirled to walk off. “I was waiting…with your daughter who was waiting…”

Two uneven piggy tails arched into the air. Seulbi’s hands clenching onto her father’s shoulders. The two of them becoming smaller in the distance until Namjoo turned to head back, feeling some sort of sting in her heart.

She felt like someone had just kicked her ankle, swinging her off balance.

Four years, was it?

“I’m leaving,” Sehun had told her. Abruptly. No warning. Just one afternoon. “I want to explore, so I’m going to travel. My pit stop? The capital.”

That shine in his eyes. That big, broad grin. Namjoo always remembered it.

“Come meet me there. I’ll call you.” He had promised.

He never called.

She never went.

※※※※※

Arriving at his studio, he let Seulbi down. Clutching onto her dress she peered up at him innocently asking, “I want juice.”

“Strawberry? Orange? Grape?” he cheekily asked.

She hopped after him toward the silver fridge. “Gwape!”

“Grape,” he corrected and handed her a box.

“Yay!” she jumped happily.

“Hold on,” he called reaching out for her. Snagging the backpack, he said, “Let’s take this off.”

Skillfully shrugging out of it she hobbled away greedily on the plastic straw. Running over to her tablet she clicked on a video he had previously downloaded for her and animated voices filled the void.

Seulbi had learned to spend her time. Living with him had not been an easy feat, but he had not wanted to give her up. She deserved a chance. She should live her fullest life. Seulbi precious. Seulbi his daughter.

He had come home in search of comfort. Hoping to nurture his daughter in the same environment his parents had. A favor done by them to him and now he to his daughter. The oceanside was instilled with fresh air. Warmth, friendly people, familiar faces. He wanted to give Seulbi the same. One day she would grow up to appreciate the heart of home where her roots lay.

Where everything and everyone she knew resonated deep within her bones. Wherever she drifted off to, whoever she was with, she would someday come back and settle into the earth she always knew. And it would be like she had never left.

Home where the heart was.

When the heart grew sick and needy, home is the healer. The familiar smells of the streets. Old, creaky buildings still holding strong. The friends of friends of friends to generations past would still recognize a familiar passing.

Everyone grows up and leaves, but one day in their lives they eventually float back to the beginning. That’s how it is.

That’s life.

One day when his daughter grew older, she would understand. Why he came back. Why he moved back home. To this place he had left.

Because memories are strong and sometimes the heart just needs it. A place to heal. With every step his feet would remember the path he used to take. The way down the narrow alley led to the best restaurant. Across the hill sat the grandmother who gave out free snacks. Behind the high boulders on the beach was a cove undiscovered.

He and Namjoo had climbed it one evening after stowing away from their middle school class camping trip. Just two kids up to no good. Stifling their giggles when they landed with a thwack on the other side.

“Do you want to try it?” he whispered.

“Try what?”

“What they do in the movies?”

“Oh that…ok.”

Under a starry sky they had slobbered over each other, mimicking what they’d seen one too many times in romance movies. Curiosity, he learned, was stupid. It was his first time with anyone. Namjoo had screamed when he got it in after much probing and poking then they scrambled away from each other nervously. Laughing afterward.

But they were still friends who lived across the street from one another. Namjoo knocking on his door in the wee hours because her parents were wringing each other’s necks again, so they’d sit on his doorstep. Just talk. She hadn’t known he always waited for it.

To come knocking. To come, needing him.

“Let’s get married when we’re thirty if we’re not yet.” He toasted on her 26^th birthday.

“I don’t want to marry you.” Namjoo scowled drinking her ice-cold beer.

“Bet.” He prodded.

“Fine, bet.” She fist-bumped him. Confidently saying, “But I’ll get a boyfriend before you even walk down the aisle.”

He had playfully hit her on the back of the head. Then the next day he wanted to leave.

Between them, he was the true bluffer.

By the time he reached the city he was already going to have a baby. Sehun remembered the incoming call just as he pulled his phone out at the bus station. Excited, his heart racing on adrenaline. “Come here,” he was going to say the moment he hit Namjoo’s name, “Seoul is huge!”

But it was Haewon, crying, “I’m pregnant, you jerk!”

Now he was home in Goseong, because he missed it. He needed the comfort. Of familiar streets, faces, the blue waters, the friendliness.

It was where the heart was.

***whoopy here we go, on another ride!

***I'm nervous bc so many people have subscribed already lol