His Money, My Voice

I sit at my little desk. Tae-oh watches me from the wall. I need him close.

I cut the envelope open slow. My hands are steady.

A letter from a lawyer. Nice paper. He wants me to say sorry on camera. In my uniform. For the man who put his hand where it should not go in July. Big number if I do.

I read it twice. I put it in the drawer. Third down, under my pens.

I write "not yet" in the back of my sky book.

I am not sorry. I did nothing wrong. Jinjja.

But here is what I will not say out loud. A small part of me looks at that number. Just one second. A tiny part thinks, what if.

Aigoo. I hate that I thought it.

I write the user at night. I tell them no. I will not say it for any money. And not for the man who made me take my own shoes off to get away.

He does not get my voice. He does not get my face on a screen.

Not yet. Not ever.