A Man I Never Met

Today a man I never met is going to read about me.

I slid a folder across a table at 3:17. Brown paper. Sealed. My hands were not cold but I feel them cold anyway.

It said our client reserves all rights.

I had to stop in the hall. Just stand there. Smile back. Nod. Like my chest was not loud.

I work in a place with marble and glass. I pour tea for people who fly here. Tonight I sit at my own small counter and write the word attorney in soft blue.

Aigoo.

The thing I keep thinking is who do I even call. My mother would cry. My sister would say I told you so. The girls from work would go quiet.

So I write it in a book no one will read. That is the whole list.

There are fairy lights on my wall. The plant needs water. I will do both. Then I will try not to open the folder again.

Hwaiting, Park Seo-yeon. Hwaiting.