Lotteria was indeed brightly lit, and in addition to the staff held about a dozen of people, all eating some version of early breakfast or late dinner, every occupied table boasting a generous carafe of coffee. Some of the people seemed to know each other. Others greeted each other, table to table, strangers in a common place and time.

                Yixing sat alone at a table backed up to the wall. He already had coffee, and he noted that an extra mug was at the seat facing him. Whether for him or for someone else he didn’t know.

                He ignored the interested looks he received from the people as he eased his way between tables to Yixing’s.

                “Hi,” he said. In the light he proved to be good-looking, if a bit wan. His eyes were dark, that brown so deep it would sometimes appear black. He returned his greeting with a faint smile and motioned him into the seat facing his.

                “I got you a cup,” he said.

                “You knew I’d come?”

                “Anyone who’d come out onto a dark street to beard a stranger who frightened him must have more curiosity than a dozen cats.”

                In spite of himself, he smiled back and took the chair. “It gets me into trouble sometimes.”

                “I imagine so. On the other hand, you probably don’t run through life with a load of nagging questions.”

                “Not often.”

                He reached for the carafe and filled his mug. The table already held a saucer full of little half-and-half containers. He reached for one, opened it and poured the contents into his coffee. At this hour of the night, even his beloved beverage could give him heartburn. The half-and-half would help.

                “I haven’t ordered yet,” he said. “Take a look at the menu. I’m buying.”

                “I can buy for myself.”

                “I’m sure you can. But since I caused all this uproar for you, this seems like the least I can do. And believe me, I can afford it.”

                So he reached for the menu and began scanning a list and he settled finally on their “fluffy” pancakes.

                Lu Han found himself strangely reluctant to grill him, even though he’d started their conversation back on the bench by doing precisely that.

                Finally he spoke. “So what can I tell you that will ease your mind?”

                “What do you want to tell me?”

                “That I mean you no harm. A statement that is absolutely meaningless without anything to back it up.”

                He couldn’t argue with that. “Seems like one of those lines in a bad sci-fi movie that always winds up being the prelude to something terrible.”

                “Hey, I like those old science fiction movies. The older and more awful, the better.”

                “The ones with nuclear bombs that are both the cause and the solution to whatever is ravaging the world?”

                He chuckled. “Yeah, those. Science as the be-all and end-all.”

                “I take it you don’t believe that.”

                He hesitated. “Not anymore,” he said finally.

                He eyed him directly. “What changed your mind?”

                “Let’s just say I have reason to believe that science is less of an answer and more of a question. It should be a search, not a conclusion.”

                “Interesting way of putting it.”

                The waitress interrupted, serving their breakfast with a smile that seemed almost obscene at this hour of the night. Either the woman was a native night owl, or the need for tips made her pretend to be one.

                After a bite of pancake, which did indeed prove to be very fluffy, he posed a question. “What brings you to Donghae City? Sure, the beaches are really nice but it’s not the kind of place where people usually stop and stay without a reason.”

                “I’ve been on the road for a  long time. Guess I finally realized you can’t outrun yourself. Seemed as good a place as any to wait for the rest to catch up.”

                The answer sounded pat. Too pat. He looked down at his mug, then picked up the spoon to stir his coffee pointlessly. “Really,” he finally responded.
                “Really,” he said. “Sounds like a bad novel, right?”

                He met his gaze again. “No, not exactly. Just….stock.”

                He nodded slowly. “There’s a difference between citing a cliché and meaning it.”

                “Well, yes.”

                “And clichés become clichéd because they’re often true. Otherwise people wouldn’t use them so much.”

                In spite of all his suspicions, he felt more intrigued that ever, and sensed the beginnings of an actual liking for this guy. He didn’t want that.

                He shrugged finally. “It’s true. I ran from myself. From an unhappy time in my life. And like all people who run, I found all the troubles and grief just came along with me. Some memories can’t be erased. They stick like burrs on your cuffs.”

                “Yes, they do. Would you want to erase your memory?”

                “There’ve been times I’ve actually thought that would be a good thing. But other times..well, frankly, Mr. Lu, you can’t give up the bad without giving up the good.” He looked out the window, but there was clearly nothing to be seen beyond the reflections on the interior of the restaurant. Darkness turned the windows into mirrors.

                “I had to put my favorite dog to sleep a couple of years ago,” he said slowly. “Best dog I ever had. He taught me a lot about being a better person.”

                “How so?”

                He looked at him again, and there was no mistaking the heaviness in his sad, dark eyes. “I could be lazy. I could be impatient. I sometimes made him wait for the smal