Iris

    Love is not a cold and rainy day in Seoul, I decide. The rain rolls off of my umbrella and into icy puddles as I make my way to the coffee shop. I shouldn’t be making these weekly trips into the far side of Seoul for coffee (my wallet definitely can’t handle it), but this shop is the only place I feel safe in weather like this.

    I buy my coffee and croissant, “Extra cinnamon spread, thank you.” I tip the cashier and make my way to my normal spot--the little table beside the window that looks over the city.  But I am surprised (albeit a little disappointed) to see someone already sitting there. It’s a man. He looks out the window in deep thought. I tip-toe to the side to get a better look, registering the same side profile as the guy from last week. The writer of the note.

    “K”, the name he gave himself, catches me looking and gives me a pointed look.

    “Hello, dream whisperer.” I blush and set my meal down on the table diagonal from him.

    “Hi.” As I go to sit, the legs of the wobbly chair give away and I am only the floor. The eyes of coffee-drinkers are all on me. I curse.

    A pair of hands gently hold me under my arms and hoist me up. “Please.” He gestures to his extra chair. I thank him as he moves the chair over for me to take a seat. The wife of the shop owner rushes over, taking my face in her hands and turning it from side to side.

    “Silly, silly girl.” She fusses. “Silly, silly me. I told my husband to get that chair fixed. Are you okay, dear?” She asks.

    I nod. “I am a klutz. Please don’t take this upon yourself.”

    She smiles and looks over at K. “How gentlemanly of you to give her your chair. Free pastries for both of you.” She says with finality before tottering off.

    “Falling asleep in a public place, and  breaking a chair. All within a week of one another? You’re a walking hazard aren’t you?” K teases.

    “I always have been one for dramatics. I hope you enjoyed the show.” I retort.

Wife comes over a few minutes later with fresh scones in her hand. She gives me mine, then offers K his. Her eyes size up the large amount of space between my and his tables, as if asking why the heck we aren’t sitting with each other and staring into one another’s eyes.

    “Enjoy.” She smiles. I am thankful she does not voice her thoughts. I have had enough embarrassment for the evening.

I raise my scone to K and he looks at me questioningly. “To dramatics.” I toast.

    “To dramatics.” He replies.

I spend the rest of my time watching the sun set over the city. The skyline of Seoul is magnificent at night, if not magical. I slip my headphones into my ears and drift into my thoughts.