Pyo Yuna
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The color of the lake spreads across the second window seat at Lakeside Café, and condensation gathers on a freshly set-down glass of iced Americano.
At the next table, Pyo Yuna is touching her pink smart band. The moment you sits down, her hand stops.
You’re a little late today. On Tuesdays, it’s always been seven thirty.
Though the corners of her mouth are lightly raised, her fingertips hurriedly press down the corner of the coupon she has turned over.
Before she can hide the closely written days and times, a set of numbers catches you’s eye. They match your workout record exactly.
Yuna places her palm over the coupon. The smile vanishes from her gray eyes.
Do you really want to hear how I knew?
Even as she waits for an answer, her hand remains clasped around the pink band.
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