Ana spotted the green bus down the block and sprinted toward it, her eyes squeezed shut as she pumped her legs with all the strength she could.

Panting, she caught the door as it was closing.  “Dang,” she thought to herself as she tapped her card against the sensor, “How did I run so much in High School?”  Back in the day she used to skip school and hang out at the park, always running away from police patrolling for kids playing hooky or getting into fights with teens and adults on the streets.  She held onto the rail tightly as the bus sped forward, “the buses haven’t changed much in the last three years…still crazy drivers…” she caught a glimpse at her reflection in the window, “but I’ve changed so much.”  The street fighter who always wore her long hair tied in a ponytail, with sweatpants under her school uniform now had a short perm and was wearing a dark blue satin blouse over black jeans and sneakers.  There wasn't a single trace of the bruises and cuts that once painted her face, as if they were a memory that never existed.  She brushed her hair backwards and let her finger slide behind her right ear to feel a scar the length of her pinky finger; the only proof of her rugged past was hidden away behind the surface.  She smiled at the memories of her rowdier days and then reached forward to pat the shoulder of a teenager sitting in the seat in front of her.  He looked up, wondering who the stranger was and Ana tipped her head toward the elderly woman standing next to her.  He raised his brow at her, as if to say, “What’s your problem?” and she snarled back.  Retreating, he immediately got up and offered the seat to the elderly woman who was wobbling back and forth between the rail and the person behind her.  Ana smiled at the boy and pressed the buzzer for the next stop, “at least I’ve still got my spunk,” she thought.

---

Lunch hour finally rolled around and Ana took a seat in the corner of the café, exhausted.  She took out her water bottle from the morning and was surprised to find bread in the shopping bag, “Did I forget to leave them all on the table for unnie?” she tilted her head as she took a sip from the plastic bottle, “I don’t think so... I clearly remember taking these out this morning....” She sat up in her seat in excitement, “maybe it was unnie!”  The thought faded as she slumped back into her chair and turned to watch the pedestrians outside her window, “Unnie used to take care of me like that.”  Ana watched a pair of young women pass by with arms linked together, bouncing down the street in their gossip and chatter. 

She remembered all the times Tori slipped melon bread into her backpack; it seemed as if it was almost every morning.  It wasn’t until years later that Tori revealed that she would always have a melon bread on her when she made her way to school in the mornings; in case she saw her.  She would approach her to say hi and slip it into her messenger bag, which Ana to this day still has a bad habit of keeping ped. 

She looked down at the melon bread she was eating and sighed; it was hard to remain positive when she doesn’t know what to do.  The sound of bells brought Ana’s attention to the entrance of the café - a woman and her elderly mother entered the café; they reminded her of the granny and daughter that owned the gukbap (rice soup) place near her old apartment building.  It was a small hole-in-the-wall that was always empty.  Tori and Ana would have a meal there at least once a week – if Tori bumped into Ana on the way home, she would suggest to go out for a meal and on a good day, Ana would follow with only an eye roll in protest.  On the rare occasion, she would meet her there after receiving a text invitation; but Ana stood her up more often than not.  She chuckled at how ignorant she was; she knew that it was a way for Tori to show that she cared for her, but she did not know how to receive such good intentions. 

Ana jumped up from her seat, water bottle in one hand and hot dog bun in the other, “I KNOW!” she thought to herself.  Someone let out a dry cough and Ana looked around the café - the woman and her mother were standing at the counter with their heads turned, staring straight at her; Ana’s coworker was standing behind the counter with a look of second-hand embarrassment and a side of “what are you doing?” Ana tipped her head in apology and slowly sunk back into her seat. 

“Who has time for embarrassment?” she quickly brushed the red off her cheeks, “I wonder if that restaurant is still there.” She stuck the bread into and pulled out her phone, “I’m sure unnie is sick of the hospital food and takeout we always bring her. What she needs is a nice, home-made gukbap [1]from halmoni[2].” Her eyes sunk into the little screen in her hands and she searched the interwebs for the old restaurant.

“Aha! There it is!” Ana found a food blog praising the little restaurant, “I’ll stop by after work today.” She got up and packed up her lunch remnants in triumph.

“KaTalk~” Her phone rang.  Ana glanced down at her phone as she tied the shopping bag.  She picked up the phone to return to her pocket and paused.  She looked down again and read the screen.

“Hey~ I hear you’re back in Korea for the summer” it read. It wasn’t from any of the boys, instead, the name read: “Dan.”