On this very day, I met him.

         Blonde hair, tall stature, sunflowers embroidered on his garments, tattoos around the chest and fingers, broad shoulders, relieved outstretched arms, and a grateful smile to offer.

         Song Mino.

         Yes, him.

         Who knew such a day would come.

         "Thank you for finding Johnny and for keeping her safe." His nose nuzzles to the munchkin cat's fur.

         "I barely did anything. You're lucky the customer of mine was a fan of yours and she recognized your cat." 

         His precious pet has big, round, and soft eyes that even I couldn't turn down. I gave her a can of tuna and in return, she accompanied me the whole day manning the cash register. When there were no customers to tend, I her orange-hued fur until she purred in content. The day seemed bearable thanks to the gentle feline.

         "Still, you were kind enough to invite Jhonny in. I've had her since she's the size of my palm. I wouldn't know what to do if I lost her. How can I thank you enough?"

         A window of opportunity opens itself with his remark. I do not hesitate to take it. "Well, I have something I want to discuss but I have no one to do it with. I'm wondering if you can lend me your thoughts?"

         "No, I don't mind at all," was his immediate reply. "Can I walk you home then?"

         I take a step back, surprised. See, I’m not used to these kinds of gestures. "Oh, that’s unnecessary."

         "But I want to, besides, I don’t think we can discuss properly if my manager is here.” He averts his gaze towards the disapproving man who is sitting at the driver’s seat of the van.   

         He bids his wary manager and the feline goodbye and off they drive away.

         “I’m all yours.” He turns to face me with a kind smile. “Lead the way?”

         We walk side by side in silence for a while. The sound of someone’s footsteps besides mine felt foreign, but I welcome it. None can really top the surrealness of the fact that I'm walking with the Song Mino himself.

         "So, what are we going to discuss?" I sensed expectation from his deep voice.

       "Well, I've read about a definition of happiness once and it reminded me of you… and with that, I wanted to ask a question."

         His eyes blink a few times. I understand his perplexed expression. My words did seem like they came out of nowhere. "Tell me then, what is happiness?"

         “Well, the article quoted a director answering this and he said — happiness is a clear horizon. It is when a person is filled with things that are only creative and not destructive. It is acknowledging that hatred is wasted energy and is unproductive. Of course, we are only humans and we do go in various emotions, but when I’m removed from all negative emotions, the horizon is clear ahead and I can finally create. It is the happiest I can ever be.” I look up to him who is listening intently. "You create. A lot. Are you happy?" 

         He hums, taking his time to gather his thoughts. “I understand the kind of happiness that stems from being able to create. But I create not just when I’m happy if that makes sense. I started dipping into drawing and painting during Winner’s hiatus. It was one of my lowest points in life. To me, sadness is just as pure and validated as happiness. Am I happy? Right now, at this very moment, I'd say, fairly yes." He would mumble the last two more times with a nod as if checking if he's certain about it. "But I'd dare say that happiness is a fickle thing. It comes and goes. What's more important to me is knowing what I want to create. Finding something that is most authentic to me, or having a goal — it goes a long way because, with it, I can look forward to tomorrow even when I'm having a rough time. I see the reason for being here."

         He gave me the answer that I expected of him. Of course, this is a man who had set his goals in stone from the very beginning.

         For a moment, I was more aware of my surroundings. The stores were closing, cars were thinning out, and passersby treading on the asphalt road were all eager to go home and sleep the night away.

         Everyone is busy, and everyone is ready to greet another day. Including him.

         I somehow could not relate.

         And so, I just had to ask — "but what about those who do not see the clear horizon of purpose, future, or reason? How do I create if I don't know or have anything that I want ahead of me?"

         I wonder if Song Mino knows how expressive he can be. Even when his lips hesitate, his eyes tell so much. I see his concern, I see him making a mental note to pick his words carefully. He knows whatever he says would matter to me.

         Mino ponders over this as if it is the most serious question he has received. Maybe there is a reason to feel as such indeed.

         "When the future is bleak, then I believe it is better to focus on the present. Trying to live day by day is just as important. Trying new things out until you find what your heart pines for," he slowly answered.

         "How do I do that when I'm constantly trying to meet ends? I need money to survive and I work to attain that. I wake up to work and sleep to be able to work again. "

         I am complaining too much, perhaps. This man beside me must be overworked too. I can see his exhaustion from how he squeezes his nape from time to time and how he stretches his arms as if he's grabbing the stars above. But he is not complaining.

         What makes us different is that he has a reason. That goal. That purpose. Where his heart can clamor on. I had none.

         What do you want? I tried asking myself.

         I couldn't even come up with a lie to that. 

         "It doesn't need to be anything grande. Changes can be found everywhere. There are things to explore out there." He tried to probe my thoughts again, our shoulders brushing lightly as the pathway grew narrower. "I mean look, the moon craters are much clearer tonight. Would it be the same tomorrow?  Maybe you'd get to taste a new brand of coffee when upon reaching home? Or you might wake up to another gradient of sunrise soon."

         "And the wind might turn from warm to cold and the numbers of the calendars shift. The leaves will turn orange to green as the seasons continue. Everything will continue changing until the change becomes mundane too and I'll continue to just — watch it all." I added, not able to hide my exasperation. "It begs the question if any of this matters."

         I want to take your words in, Mino. I really do, but I don't even know where to put them. Such poetic and yet intangible words that elude reality. Real-life is raw and gritty. It is about constantly clutching a dry and rough rope that sears a person's calloused hands while they try to hang on. Life is constantly enduring.

         "It matters if you are doing it for the right reasons. Say, if it is about finding something you want to be passionate about, then the things you are doing now have to be for you and about you. Not for someone else." He gives me a speculative gaze while I tear mine away from him. Caught red-handed. I hear him sigh as he continues to speak. "I did say to try living, not just to simply and utterly breathe. You need to do things for yourself."

         "That's kind of patronizing when it comes from someone who has the liberty and capability to take care of others and himself."

         That was going too far. I winced to my own words and immediately raised my palms up for a truce. "Sorry, I didn't mean to argue when I was the one who asked to talk about this."

         "Don’t be sorry, I can take it,” he replies and shakes his head reassuringly. “It’s fascinating to me how if I weren’t here, I feel like you would debate with yourself the way we are doing right now, anyway.”

         I trail off behind him, watching his broad and sturdy silhouette with a tilt of my head to the side. “Whatever do you mean?”

         “I feel like you were trying to counter that director’s definition of happiness; that you want to prove that happiness is also attainable to those who are lost and still are on their way to being found. I agree with you on that.” His footsteps come to a halt as he waits for me to catch up. “ clear horizons.” 

         Happiness is a luxury,  I was only looking for the will to keep going, really.

         We climb to the steepest road ahead. The last stretch before we part ways. 

         When we reach the highest point, I move a step ahead to block his path. We both try to catch out breaths as our gazes lock when I face him. "You are very..." I paused. For the lack of a better term, I concluded — "optimistic."

         His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. "My point is, don't give up."

         "Like I said, optimistic," I repeat. I can argue against all of his words the whole night and he would be stubbornly doing the same. Perhaps I exactly needed that tonight; someone who sees things on how they should be and not for what it is.

         "What did you think of Johnny, my cat?" He suddenly asks.

         Without hesitation, I answer. "She's precious and very sweet. You are very lucky to have her."

          "Was that enthusiasm I sensed just now?" He chuckles as my eyes narrow. "Don't brush away anything that sparks even the littlest of emotions or interest in you. If these small moments happen, then isn't it just logical for bigger things to arrive too? And if so, then is it safe to say that one day, along the way, you'd find something worth creating too?"

          What do you want? I ask myself once more.

          I can't quite tell, but my heart clamors for more. More.

          "The moon's craters are really visible tonight," My feet shifted awkwardly when he started to smile again as I said that.

          His eyes soften as he looks up at me. "Tell me more."

          I like it when the sky is blue and the clouds are puffy.

          I like the salty air of the sea

          and the feeling of my bedsheets on the sides of my feet.

          I purse my lips. “Well, I like some of the songs you write."

          “Which song is your favorite?”

          “I won't tell you the title but it is one of those you wrote for your group. Every time I listen to it, I feel as if someone wishes me well, even when I'm out of reach already.” I shiver at the coldness of the wind. "This is where we part, by the way. It's quite dangerous from hereon."

          Mino tilts his body sideways to look past me. By then he would see the run-down buildings ahead, the grim environment, and he would probably even hear the shared secrets and arguments amongst neighbors through thin walls.

          "And it's not dangerous for you?"

          I shake my head. "I don't count. I live here. Thank you for walking me home." I studied his features for a bit as much as the orange lamp up ahead can provide. It is not always that one meets a celebrity this randomly but if I can speak from this experience, I'd say he is just as marveling in person. If not, more.

          I bowed and turned around to head for home. It didn't take ten steps before I hear him speak once more.

          "I have a hunch which song you are referring to." There is alertness from his voice, one that I find unnecessary when we are only strangers accidentally meeting on a random night. There is no need to worry for me.

          "Oh?" That was all I replied. I turn to face him once more and for his sake, I added, "I'll listen to it tonight to get a good sleep and so I can wake up tomorrow refreshed."

          He audibly exhales. "I'll see you around, okay?"

          "I don't think that's going to happen? We're worlds apart." I reminded him, much to my amusement. "Have you forgotten who you are?"

          "Don't be dramatic. I only happen to be a guy who lives a block away from the convenience store you're working at. I'll come by for ice cream."

          If I remain in silence for a while, would he wonder if he had crossed the line and would he choose to just continue on to his merry ways?

          Time dragged on and he is still rooted to his spot.

          I sigh, "I don't play favorites. I can't give you a discount no matter how many ice creams you buy."

          Song Mino grins victoriously. "Will I ever get to know your name?"

          "Is it necessary to know?"

          "See, that's the thing. It's not just about a necessity for me. I want to know."

          I couldn't help the corners of my lips tilting upwards to simper at him. "I'd like to prove that your desire for my name can diffuse easily, so I won't tell. Besides, I saved your cat, you walked me home. I owe you nothing. Good night, Song Mino."

          The man slightly opens his mouth and I wondered if he would complain. Instead, he smiles and waves his hand. "You are right. You are free to do whatever you want."

          My frontal teeth sink to my bottom lip as he retraces the steps we both just took. I bite hard until it hurts, just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

          I am free to do whatever I want, he says. For once it felt like I really can.

          See, I am not used to saying the word no, but of the few moments that I did, Song Mino was the first one to understand and respect what that meant.

          "Thank you," I say but he isn't there to hear it anymore.

          At home, the reek of alcohol and the drunk slur of words from my father greets me. His hand stretches out in demand and I give him three-fourths of what I earned for the day because giving less meant more purple hues on me to cover whenever I head out for work.

          In my bedroom, everything is neat and tidy. Not a speck of dust or trash. I made sure to clean for this special night. However, the plan is halted because I have ice creams to sell and moon craters to suddenly observe. Thanks to him.

          I turn the light on and it buzzes after months of being left untouched. The calendar marks this day. I tuck the letter back into my diary. I walked to a drawer, took items I bought from the pharmacy, and tossed them in the trash can.

          I opened the rickety window and let the cold night breeze enter my room. I plugged in my earphones and listened to the song I pertained to. Have a good day.

          My heart drums, my body shudders, my skin prickles, and as achingly as it still is — I feel quite alive for the time being.

          " clear horizons," I repeated what Song Mino said.

          For now, let's breathe and live.