Seo-yeon's diary

13Oct

The Number I Copied Backward

I spent half the hotel entrance pretending not to mind being apologized to by mistake. I know Jong-hun’s laugh rescued me. I know everyone saw the embarrassing…

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12Oct

The Shape of Being Followed

I keep replaying the reflection in the station glass. Two buses, one quiet lawyer, and still those clean gray shoes appeared twice, as if the watcher had become…

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11Oct

Wrist. Sketch. Two Watchers. Smile.

The ice pack is on my wrist at 16:00 and it throbs in a way that feels honest — like the bruise is confirming something I already knew. He didn't just want the…

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10Oct

The badge on the desk

I put it beside the sealed drawer tonight, the one I do not open unless I have to. It is just a badge. It is not just a badge. Manager Han called me Park Seo-ye…

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9Oct

The Cropped Version and What Remains

Someone cropped him out of me and I don't know if that makes me the witness or the crime. I keep coming back to the staple. Not the photograph, not the blood on…

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8Oct

The Record I Refused

I keep calling it evidence because that sounds sensible, responsible, even brave. The truth is that I wanted one thing no one could use against me: a gap in the…

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7Oct

The gap and the hair and the note

Someone took the note. I checked four times before I accepted it: the doormat was clean, no tuck, no corner poking out, nothing. Whoever left it came back. I do…

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6Oct

The copper smell and my wrong hand

Sung said I smell like copper now. Copper is rust. Rust is the same colour as the smear on the log from August 29th. I did not connect those two things until ju…

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5Oct

The grip he left on my wrist

He held it three seconds longer than he needed to. I know because I counted. That is the thing I keep coming back to — not the log, not the signature, but the w…

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4Oct

Seven days until they look at my body

I keep thinking about the copper smell more than I should. It was on my palm when I got up. Floor polish and something metallic and I stood there for a second t…

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3Oct

03:12 and the thing I cannot open

The envelope has been in my coat pocket for fourteen hours and I still cannot get my fingers to pull the seal. Not because I am afraid of what is inside — I kno…

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2Oct

The pencil note will not save me

Bae Yu-jin says do not go to 2104 and I want to ask why but I also do not want to know why. Rooms get flagged for rebooking damage, guest complaints, things lef…

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1Oct

The paper trail of almost nothing

The yellow sticky note is still in my bag. I keep it there like a receipt. Reassigned. Three syllables and a cart parked where my life was. I should have made a…

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30Sep

The chair was taken

The chair was taken. Of course it was taken. I walked in and Im was already there at the head of the register beside Appa like he had always been there, like so…

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29Sep

He filmed me bleeding into my slipper

The doorman held his phone horizontal. I know what horizontal means — evidence, not memory. He filmed me sitting on the landing with glass everywhere and blood…

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28Sep

What I needed this to be

I drew the charcoal suit from memory tonight and abandoned it halfway. His shoulders came out wrong—not the right slope. The coffee stain on the photograph is s…

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27Sep

Receipts and the light I couldn't turn off

I sent Vijay two photos tonight and I hate that it mattered. Soft grey sweater, then the silk one with the collarbone crop — the one where my expression is supp…

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26Sep

My Name Is Not His

I keep coming back to the doorman calling me by Im’s name before I had even spoken. The mistake felt practiced, not accidental. I hate that I had to look at his…

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25Sep

I Am Not Apologizing

I keep trying to make the red mark into a smaller thing. A stain. A detail on a wall. Then I remember how deliberate a thumb looks when it has been dragged down…

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24Sep

The Line I Can Carry

I keep coming back to the sentence on the yellow pad. Four words, and the last one pressed so hard into the paper it looks less like advice than a boundary. I w…

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23Sep

The door opened and shut

I rehearsed a first sentence for a week and the door answered before I could use it. She smiled my smile — my exact smile, the one I have spent nine years perfe…

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22Sep

same given name, different handwriting

The name on the lease is Im Seo-yeon. Same given name. Different surname. I read it twice under the cafe lamp because I thought maybe I had read it wrong. I had…

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21Sep

same drink, same sister

The server called her my sister. I have no sister. I stood behind the menu and my hands went cold and the word sat between us like it had always been true and e…

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20Sep

Six landings

The hand in the charcoal sleeve. That is what I keep seeing when I close my eyes. Not the plate, not the horn — the sleeve. Whoever came for me dressed for it.…

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19Sep

BUILDING on a napkin

I knew the handwriting before Moon Tae-hoon finished his sentence. The signature line said Im. The handwriting was mine. I have been staring at my own name for…

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18Sep

Wrong surname, right audience

The waiting room smelled the same as every Chuseok I've sat through — old coats, barley tea, somebody's menthol patch. I knew four of the six faces by their han…

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17Sep

Five inks and a salt ring

The crying is the entry. I don't even know which part of it was the worst. I could write the smaller safer version — that I feel stuck, that I don't know my nex…

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16Sep

The Spoon Was Right

I heard my own name today in a throat that was not mine. I keep starting with the smaller thing. The smaller thing is: a guest at the concierge used my name and…

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15Sep

Evidence next to the kettle

The hand throbs. That's the whole page really. The webbing between my thumb and forefinger has this deep, tidy little mouth in it now and every time I reach for…

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14Sep

Bergamot in the Teeth

I keep coming back to the way he said my name. Twice. Practiced, like he had been rehearsing it in the back of a car on the way to Hannam-dong, rolling it aroun…

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