M I D  D E C E M B E R  2 0 1 3
03:35 P.M.

The balcony to the left was vacant as ever, and he should always know that.

     Luhan sipped his coffee, seeing his own messed-up reflection inside the cup. Though the breeze
gave off a pleasant feeling, he was anxious. It was the ticking of the clock that filled him with the thoughts
of grief. It echoed throughout the empty apartment like a deadly siren.

     He was alone again.

     He’d always been alone—yet never felt it.

     The phone rang. His eyes flew to the house phone glued to the wall. Another ring, and he placed the coffee
cup aside and answered.

     “Hello?” A pause, and Luhan nodded. “Yes, I’ll be right down.”

     He arrived at the lobby where his mail was waiting. He rarely got mails, because technology was his best friend.
But when he does get them, it’d mostly be bills—and perhaps a package.

     He turned to the brown packaging. Probably from Mom back in China, he thought. But the label on the box was
peculiar. It hadn’t been shipped from Beijing—it had been shipped right there, from somewhere in Korea.

     Heart hammering, he grabbed everything and ran back up to his apartment, locked himself in, and threw everything
onto the sofa—all except for the package. His package. He wasn’t expecting anything, and that was what intrigued him.

     Without hesitating he ripped the packaging open, revealing a book.

     His heart steadied as he flipped through the mysterious sender’s gift, then the tight lump in his throat caused the beatings
inside him to increase as his fingers brushed the first page, where printed on it was of one dedication:

     To Deer Lu.