I kept it, obviously

She should not be in my closet. The coat. I can feel it on its hook from here, the badge still inside because taking it out would mean I have decided something.

Myung-hee worked Tuesday-through-Saturday on the 14th. I know because I checked the roster from bed with the lights off, phone in my hand like a small cold sun. She was quiet. She smiled the way I smile - the correct amount, at the correct speed, for the correct person. I don't think the morning shift liked her. I don't think anyone disliked her either. She was the kind of person who can disappear for a week and no one files the paper.

That is what "quiet absence" means. I know what it means now.

I posted the photos. I didn't plan to. Three posts in twenty minutes and I watched the little hearts pile up while I ate kimbap at the counter, standing up, not hungry. I wanted someone to tell me it was a draft. Instead: fire emojis, "omg are you okay," the lobby café barista offering to walk me to my car. None of them knew what they were looking at. I did.

Yesterday I brought home an envelope and a stranger's business card. Today I brought home a coat. The pattern is me. I am the one who keeps the things that should not be kept, who walks down corridors with the lights dying behind her and pockets the evidence instead of logging it. Perfect guest staff. Perfect policy compliance. Until I am not.

Yu-jin replied. She said be careful. She said don't go to 17 again. She cried when she read the note, which is the only sentence that mattered.

I cried too, later, with the webtoon open on the tablet and the fairy lights making the room look like a children's birthday. For Myung-hee maybe. For me. For the fact that I keep doing this and I cannot stop.

The note is running behind my eyelids like subtitles. The third cup of barley tea is cooling on the nightstand. I am tired in a way that has nothing to do with my body.