summer and max

Summer loves bikes, blue skies, and apple pies. She is rather skinny and quite tall for her age. Her hair is long and wavy; lips like soft petals; and eyes, the color of melted cocoa.

Her favorite hobby is waking up early to see the first rays of sun kiss the night away. She would open her eyes before the great ball of fire climbs up the sky, open her curtains, and drum her fingers against the windowsill as she starts her countdown to another dawn break. The morning air is always chilly and the sounds of birds chirping aren't drowned yet by the usual noises of the city life. She'd observe the few souls walking on the deserted streets and would watch in awe as the indigo sky dissolve into baby blue as the sun breaks out of the horizon.


Max loves the smell of coffee even if he isn't really fond of drinking such. He is tall, a bit lanky, and sports a permanently “lost” look. His nose is high as his ears are big; and his eyes, forever wondering.

He works night-shift on one of the laziest coffee shops in Seoul. So lazy that people either come in pairs, alone, or not at all. Nevertheless, he is always on time and eager, taking his spot behind the cash register with his crisp uniform and ready (awkward) smile. His fingers would dart expertly across the buttons very much like how a pianist dances his hands over black and white keys. He'd watch the constant scene of strangers come and go and would always be fascinated how shop visitors come in trickles but would start to flow in streams after two in the morning as usual partyphiles stop by for a cup to sober them up.


One early morning a bit chillier than usual, Summer waited for the sun to come out but it seemed too tired to greet her another morning. The sky was the color of pale steel and the wind started to sting against her cheek. She closed the curtains, strode across her room, and grabbed her woolly sweater. She passed by her mother cooking breakfast in the kitchen, kissed her cheek, and told her she'll go out to buy some apple pie. It was still a few months before autumn and she felt that her last apple pie has been a lifetime ago. She dropped by the coffee shop around the corner of the street near her house; stepped into the cozy room and walked straight to the counter.

At around thirty minutes past five, the sleepy coffee shop at a corner of the street stopped being lazy. There must be something with the air outside which made the people suddenly want for a cup of hot coffee that Max has been too busy tending customers he hadn't realized how he has worked past his usual shift. He found this sudden burst of excitement more depressing than motivating that his fingers worked faster than it usually does across the register in his attempt to finish things faster so that he could go home and prepare for school. He breathed a sigh of relief to see the line finally dissolve. He was about to close the drawer and call it a day when he heard the soft jingle of the bell attached to the door and the sound of sandals tapping on the floor. He raised his head and his eyes meet warm, excited ones.

“Do you have apple pies?”

Her voice sounded like chimes tinkling in the open wind and he felt the tiredness ebb away from him.

“Yes. How many do you want?'

His expression returned to its usual business form as he opened the drawer and started punching the keys.

“Two. Two boxes.”

He gave her order and bowed curtly after. She received it with a smile, arms stretching excitedly towards her purchase. She has just reached the door and was about to touch the doorknob when she turned around and smiled warmly at him.

“Oh, a cold but happy morning to you!” She then turned around on her heels and was gone.

Max smiled – a bit later – after the shock wore off. He closed the register drawer and mumbled something to the wind.

“Happy morning to you, too.”


That was the last time he has seen the girl. She never returned to the coffeehouse ever again and  the memory of that one chilly summer morning was slowly forgotten.


Years passed by swiftly. It was a cloudy morning and Max was walking along the busy streets of Seoul. He walked with an air of formality and grandeur. He has on, not the usual crisp uniform he used to wear back on his cashier days, but a regal suit and expensive tie quite fitting for his earned profession after working his way through college. He turned around a corner and felt a body collide against his. He looked down and saw a girl, rather skinny and quite long, sitting on the pavement with the contents of her bag scattered all over that part of the sidewalk.

“I'm sorry. Are you fine?”

The girl looked up at the sound of his voice and he found himself staring at a pair of eyes, so strangely familiar he felt something warm climb up his cheeks.

“Yes. It's nothing. I'm sorry too.” She picked up her belongings, stood up and bowed lowly at him. He watched her walk away and disappear around the corner. He was about to turn around and continue on his way when the girl reappeared and called out to him.

“A cold but happy morning to you, by the way.” And right after she said those words, she disappeared.

Max stood rooted to the spot as the familiar words sank on his brain. He looked at his wristwatch - thought the time too early - and ran opposite the direction of where he was initially heading.


Summer stopped in front of the old coffeehouse on the street corner near her house. It's the coffee shop she used to pass by every evening back when she was still in the university. She had always observed the casual and polite cashier who takes the night-shift and walks home around six in the morning. She first saw him on that certain morning when the sun shone earlier than usual, hitting her face with lively sunbeams that she needed to wake up from her precious sleep and close her open windows. That started her routine; waking up early to see the boy pass by under her window on his way home. It took her quite a while before she mustered courage to actually go inside the shop and talk to him. The one occasion was enough and she went back observing him from the windows of her room until the day he stopped passing by.

“Wait, miss...”

Her ears perked up as she heard a low voice behind her. She turned around to see the man she has just collided with standing in front of her.

“You... You dropped this.” The panting man reached out his hand towards her; a white handkerchief carefully placed on his palm.

She looked at the thing and then back at the man. His permanently 'lost' look is gone, she has noticed, and there's an aura of certainty and finality resonating from him. She reached out a trembling hand and took the handkerchief.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

He spoke softly but there was an underlying tone of confidence on his voice. He watched her eyes move from his face to the door of the coffeehouse.

“M-me?”
“Yes.”

She looked surprised and took time to answer that the man took initiative of taking her arm and guiding her inside the shop. The bell attached to the door jingled and he smiled upon the wave of memories that flooded him after he heard it.

They sat on a table near the glass walls showing the busy stream of traffic flowing on that chilly mid-morning. A young waiter walked towards them carrying a pen and a small notebook.

“May I take your order, ma'am, sir?”

“Apple pie.”

The girl opened but the man spoke the words before she can manage to do so. She let out a shy smile before finishing her order. “Make it two. And I'll have a latte.” she then looked at the man. “How about you?”

“I don't really drink coffee.” He saw her smile falter to which he quickly added, “but I do love the smell of it.” He turned to look at the young waiter. “I'd have tea. That's all.”

The young waiter bowed curtly and walked away, leaving the two alone. The girl looked calm but her fingers were nervously playing with the handkerchief. The young man said nothing but he was silently the girl in front of him.

“Umm...” she cleared and looked at him. “My name is Summer... and this handkerchief isn't really mine.”

She stretched her hand and gave the handkerchief back. The man looked at the cloth and then back at the girl. He took it gently, his fingers brushing against her hand before placing it on the table.

“I know. My name is Max.”

He gave out a smile so pure his eyes mirrored them. He took her hands before she can put them down. The girl looked at him and then back at the handkerchief, placed neatly she can see the name MAX printed on its corner.


The smell of coffee started to fill the air and Max closed his eyes as he let the familiar aroma fill him. His hands gently squeezed hers and his lips curled into a smile. Summer laughed upon finally understanding; her laughter like the tinkling of bells and happiness written on her eyes, the color of melted cocoa.