Two Buttons Undone on a White Blouse
She wore the white blouse with only two buttons fastened. Before the spilled coffee on the marble floor had time to dry, I had already lifted my gaze to the nape of her neck. The papers in my hand were merely an excuse. The breath that whispered this is a mistake grazed the back of my hand. Just one brush of skin, yet in that instant I scanned every tremor of her eyelids as if under a microscope. When night fell, the reply that reached me was not from her but only the sound of my own withheld breath. From that day on, I decided to approach them, one by one. Five people. Five moments of held breath.
The Air That Pulls
Just before the subway doors closed, the tattooed man’s left arm came into view, its rectangular lines continuing like a metro map. I counted the rhythm with which the tip of his index finger tapped his earbud cord. This won’t be easy, I murmured. As I did, the man shook his head and rose from his seat. His retreating silhouette was the clearest thing in the world. I had failed, yet my chest burned. The first held breath ended.
Green Drifting on the Water’s Surface
Ju-hye was six years younger, but her gaze looked far older. One spring afternoon, in a friend’s living room, I sat beside her as if by chance.
“How can you look so alike?”
“Like what?”
“The way the corners of your eyes droop when you miss your mom.”
She laughed softly and removed her glasses.
“Today is my mom’s birthday. But I didn’t call.”
For a moment she unlatched her own lock, and I slid my hand into the gap. I rested my hand lightly on the back of hers. She blinked and stepped back. She had broken up with her boyfriend the day before. What I had touched was not her wound but my own desire.
A Lie by the River
At dusk, Hye-jin stood on the rooftop, a cigarette dangling long and untouched beneath the red sunset.
“Could I borrow a light?”
“I have one… but you don’t actually smoke.”
“I’m only pretending. I’m curious what you’re burning, that’s all.”
She laughed low and handed me the lighter. The moment the warm metal touched me, I felt my focus settle in her pupils. Yet she turned away.
“I hate cigarettes. I just come here because it quiets my mind.”
She pocketed the lighter and went back to the office. Watching her leave, I whispered to myself, I hate cigarettes too. The desire I had collided with hurt as if it were tearing two fingers from my hand.
Blind Gallop
In the bookstore the professor looked at me through cloudy lenses, then slowly read the title of the book I carried.
“The Master of Silence?”
“Yes, but I stopped halfway. Could you tell me how it ends?”
“No, I never finished it either. But I’m certain that where silence ends, a relationship begins.”
I took one step closer and lightly touched his shoulder. He shook his head with the expression of someone wondering why I mistook this for a confession. The professor took a book from the shelf and handed it to me. A band of white paper circled the cover.
“I wrote this. The last page is blank. I’d like you to be the one to fill it.”
The moment I accepted it, I saw that his eyes looked not at me but at the empty page. I was merely another medium.
The Hidden End
The fifth was the woman who had been the first. When we met again on the subway, I said nothing. I simply sat beside her and watched her sob over a photograph she took from her wallet. I neither wiped her tears nor spoke. When I stood to leave, she gave a small nod. At that instant, something inside my chest gave way. The five approaches had in truth been five approaches toward myself—toward the fear, anger, and desire surrounding me, not toward them.
Silhouette of Desire
You’ve heard that obsession pierces the dimension of wounds, and that a wound is ultimately a cry asking to be seen. I read 120 books trying to turn romance into formulas, yet the five failures shattered every equation. What they rejected was not my manual but the fact that they did not need me.
Questions Reflecting One Another
At this very moment, if you like someone, is it truly the light in their eyes? Or is it the empty space within them that reflects your own absence? After five approaches I ask: What hollow are you leaving empty now, asking someone else to fill it?