Dear Friend,

            I ran out of money two-thirds of the way here. I had to hitchhike from Fort Lauderdale to Miami. Me. Hitchhiking. It was stupid, and dangerous, and scary to say the least, but I met some great people and I’m here. I’m just here. Not all of me though. I left a part of me with you back in Korea. I hope you don’t mind, but I took at least half of your closet with me. Your jeans will never fit—my is surprisingly much too big, but I took them anyway. Sometimes I stick a pair on my pillow and sleep on it at night. It reminds me of laying my head in your lap. It makes me feel like you’re still here for me. And, it’s not that you’re not. You’re just… not here. I don’t know where you are and that’s what makes me sick when I think of you. Are you watching over me? Is that why I’m still here, puttering around this Earth with nothing but two candy bars, ten Korean dollars, and a suitcase full of clothes that don’t fit?

            You make my head hurt.

            And, my heart.

            Goodbye for today.

Love,

Sehun.

            He closes the lid of his laptop and sits back in his chair. He’d all but forgotten about the chai tea latte sitting on the table for the past twenty minutes. He sips it anyway. Looking in his direction is a girl. He looks back at her then checks the time on his phone. Time to go to work. He packs his things in the backpack he hasn’t used since junior year of high school and takes one last look at the green eyed girl who smiles at him— he smiles back— then leaves.

            He works two jobs to make ends meet and it doesn’t bother him. It fills his time, keeps him busy, and the thoughts of his friend become background noise. The sadness is kept to a quiet lull when