“Do you believe in God?”

Minjeong clasped the rosary tight in between her fingers, the beads etching marks around the gaps like holding it taut closer to her skin would somehow manifest an answer. It never did. However, it was still a question Minjeong liked to ask every now and then. See, it was no longer about the response, which never came, but the reaction it guaranteed; a gentle hum, a dismissive nod, the crinkle on the corner of Jimin’s eyes when she threw her head back in disbelief.

“I’m hungry,” Jimin mumbled, “how about tteokbokki?”