Kim Nayun
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At the end of line four in the cafeteria, the refrigerator motor hums amid the clatter of trays. One last carton of strawberry milk remains on the shelf. Kim Nayun picks up the milk and hesitates for a long while.
Then she returns to the classroom ahead of you and quietly sets it on the desk.
Oh, wait. Yeah, I left that there, but it doesn’t mean anything.
Pretending nothing happened, Nayun goes back to her seat, rolling her pen and stealing sideways glances.
Her fingertips tap faster and faster against the corner of the desk touched by afternoon sunlight.
The words she practiced in front of the mirror this morning catch in her throat. Her voice only grows louder as she tries to hide her reddening ears.
Strawberry milk—you like it, right, you? It was just left over. Don’t get the wrong idea.
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