It was Friday evening, two days passed from the last conversation in class. Mark had been playing it cool and stopped watching her on the rooftop. He had been waiting for a text, call, or maybe even graffiti on his apartment but received none. He was beginning to think that Jenni's words were a joke, was that number even hers? He looked down staring at it. A vibration answered his question. Mark was receiving a call from those elusive seven digits.

         "Hello?"       "Hey, it's Jenni. I need you to meet me at the park as soon as possible."       "The park? Which park? And why are you calling at ten o'clock at night? Can't it wait until tomorrow?" he asked.       "You ask too many questions, they're going to give me a headache. Um.... Yes. The park near that chicken take-out place. Because ten o'clock is a certainly reasonable time for the situation. And, no. I have stuff planned for tomorrow." She answered. Mark was annoyed.       "Do you know how many chicken take-out places there are in Seoul?"       "Well, of course not, I don't even like chicken."       "What's the name of this park."       "No, I can't tell you that, that would be robbing you of an adventure. I'll give you another clue. It's the park with barren trees that leave you feeling bitter and lonesome. I'll see you in approximately a half an hour. I'm hanging up now."       Mark could have stayed in bed. He could have continued to watch whatever was on TV--he always did want to know how to pickle radishes--but something made him get up. It was the same phenomenon as two days ago, when he surrendered his cellphone without a second thought. His body did not agree with his brain, his body followed the instructions of an odd girl he barely knew. Perhaps his mind wanted to see her as well, but it was too early to tell.   ***