Seulgi knows she’s impulsive, but she’s never imagined that it would lead her here; back to the place where she’d taken her first steps. She's standing in the middle of the front yard on a cold winter day, hundreds of miles away from Seoul, desperately trying to remember what her dad had taught her about chopping wood.

Feet apart. Arms up above your head, keep them straight. Let the axe do the work.
And yell a little. It helps.

She doesn’t think it’s true, but the memory of his voice and how his smile would reach his eyes overcomes her; a tug on her heart that has been there for years yet never felt anything but fresh, and it’s like losing him all over again.

She lets out a grunt as she swings (a decent compromise, she figures), and the wood splits like it was nothing.

“Woah! Last time I saw you, you could barely lift that thing!”

It’s been almost 6 years, but Seulgi knows that voice, would recognize the boom and the lilt from anywhere, and it surprises her that she would hear it again here, of all places. Seungwan was hell-bent on leaving. She regaled Seulgi non-stop with tales of what they would do once they move to the city after graduation, decorated the walls of her bedroom with posters of the hustle and bustle of big cities around the world, saved most of her allowance because she “will not be here any second longer than I have to, so help me.”

and yet…

She drops the axe. Stretches both her arms as wide as she could, taking the first steps towards her friend. She sees the curve of Seungwan’s lips moving upward before the latter broke into a full grin, and she can feel her own smile reaching her eyes as Seungwan runs towards her.

The dry, cold air nips on her face, and even with her friend’s warmth wrapped around her, she can see the puff of air coming out with every exhale. Successfully chopping wood is admittedly too small of an accomplishment to be celebrated, but she thinks of the sujebi dough that is resting on the kitchen counter, hears Seungwan whispers, “Welcome back, dummy,” as she tightens her arms around Seulgi, and concludes that it’s the perfect reward.

In the city, food was available anywhere, anytime.

There were, admittedly, conveniences that used to fill her with such amazement. Food delivery services that were available practically 24/7. Dishes that she thought had only been available abroad, she could find them with relative ease.  Things were ready and waiting for her, be it 5 minutes or 5 taps away.

She relied on convenience store ready-to-eat meals on days when she’s busy or just plain could not be bothered. Bought prepackaged doenjang jjigae out of curiosity (but never actually used them). Sees the latest and greatest knick-knacks proudly displayed and decorated by street vendors or cafés on her way home. Nothing was unpolished or unattractive in Seoul, and Seulgi quickly learned that included the food.

In the end, she documented more than she actually ate them.

If there had been a specific moment when it all had morphed, Seulgi couldn’t pinpoint it. One minute she was fine, eating bingsoo along the Han river while enjoying the breezy Sunday afternoon, the next, a switch had been flipped off and she felt something shifted; like having a phantom itch crawling just beneath the surface of her skin. Every day since had been a struggle to find enjoyment. Everything tasted the same: bingsoo that were too sweet, gyeran ppang either soggy or too burnt, kimchis too sour or not sour enough, and try as she might, she couldn’t find a decent galbitang anywhere.

Before she knew it, she’d given up. They’re edible enough, she told herself. Enough to tide her over, enough to stop her stomach from grumbling. Enough to survive on.

Her Mom didn’t understand what she meant, but god bless the woman for trying. At least Seulgi thought she did.

“Why don’t you cook anymore? You used to like helping me in the kitchen. And your dishes are always delicious,” she would say.

They’ve been on this hamster wheel of a conversation before, and Seulgi knew it’s a topic that wouldn’t lead to anything substantial. It was like a filler for silence, something to land on until one of them changes the subject.

“I don’t have the time. Plus cooking for 1 person is always more hassle than it's worth,” she replied.

“That’s true. But you still have to eat, Princess.”

Three beeps were coming from the machine to the right of her, and Seulgi mumbled her “I know” as she took the bento box she’d gotten on the way home out of the microwave.

“I’ll call you again tomorrow, Mom.”

“Okay. Good night, Seul-ah.”

“Mmmm. Sleep well.”

At 10 minutes before midnight, this would only have been her second meal of the day. Work today had been a frantic, frenzied mess that all she’d had time for was the egg sandwich she’d gotten on her way to the office this morning. How exactly had the 4 subsequent cans of Cola tided her over, she had no idea.

This would have been the first time that she finds a convenience store dosirak appetizing.

One bite out of the cutlet, and she knew it’s in the beginning stages of spoil.

She went to sleep with an empty stomach that night. And maybe that was what had driven her back to her childhood home; a mixture of impulse and anger and disgust, so tangled with each other, so deeply rooted in herself that she could feel the bitterness creep higher and higher. It scared her.

By the next morning, she was at the bus station, a suitcase in tow.

Food was everywhere in the city, and if she’s honest, availability wasn’t the problem. She could feel deep in her bones, couldn't deny the fact any longer: in the city, the hunger was consuming her.

She told Seungwan this, only to be swiftly met with a confused look.

“Huh???”

Seulgi shakes her head, too focused on cutting up the squid tentacles for the haemul pajeon to explain further. “Never mind. Come help me with the stove.”

“I thought as a guest, I am to be entertained with food and alcohol, not be asked to help out.”

“Consider it payback for inviting a stranger over."

“Oh come on, you can stand to make one new friend,” Seungwan replies with a nudge. “Plus, Joohyun unnie is really nice.”

“I’m sure she is, but…”

“You guys will be friends in no time. I have a good feeling about this.” Seungwan’s smile is almost blinding, all teeth and eyes disappearing into curved lines. She turns on the stove, pours the oil in the pan, and when there’s no response from Seulgi, throws her thumbs up for good measure. Seulgi can’t help but laugh. Seungwan always has “good feelings” about things, Seulgi wants to retort, wants to remind her that her track record hasn’t exactly been stellar. But it feels good to share a space with a familiar presence instead of the hum of the fluorescent light she's so used to by now, and she figures that one more company wouldn't hurt. The woman did look friendly enough when they bump into each other in town this morning. 
 

Five hours later, with a serving of jeon, sundubu jjigae, and 3 rounds of makgeolli between them, Seungwan -who deems the floor to be her sleeping mat- suddenly boops her on the nose. 

“Seulgi-yah, tell her why you came back, let’s see if she can decipher what you meant.”

Seulgi blames the sudden flush of her cheeks on her tipsiness. Her body is swaying, her head feels slightly heavier, and it doesn’t help that she could feel a pair of eyes on her from the person who, as of mere 24 hours ago, was a total stranger. Sharing food and drinks are fine, but sharing that? It feels… odd.

She chances a glance towards the woman she’s referred to as Joohyun-ssi the entire evening. Her vision might be blurry, but the softness of the gaze is not lost on her. There’s no hint of judgment, only curiosity; so open and so warm, it almost feels like she’s being cracked open. And it’s too much all at once. Too much understanding, too much tenderness, too much patience.
Too much than what she feels she's worth.

Her instinct is to retract to her shell and hide. Pour another round of makgeolli as a distraction. Get up from the table and start cleaning the kitchen. Something, anything, to take the attention away from her.

Joohyun waits. And waits some more. And then some more. She swirls her glass. Tucks the fallen strand of hair behind her ear. Retracts her hand inside her sleeve before bringing it to her nose.
Her eyes fleet around the living room, but ultimately they land back on Seulgi. 
She keeps waiting.

Seulgi forces it out. It comes out a little louder than she intended, a little more slurred, and a little shaky. But she manages. “I said I’ve been really hungry.”

“See, Unnie?” Seungwan swings at the air around her with both her arms. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Seulgi’s reply was a short chortle as she grabs the back of her neck, trying to suppress the wave of embarrassment blooming in her chest.

Stupid.

Maybe Seungwan was right, maybe it was nonsensical. Hell, it’s starting to sound like nothing to her, as well. But before she can throw out a dismissive wave of hand, before she can dismiss her admission as nothing that's worth mulling over, Joohyun hummed in understanding, gives Seulgi possibly the warmest smile she has ever received, and nods.

She thinks Seungwan might be right this time.

And for the first time in a long time, Seulgi feels satiated.