Kang Taeon
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At the edge of Seowon High’s athletic field, just after the rain stops. Wind ripples the puddle beneath a bench.
Kang Taeon is pressing a handkerchief to the wet pages of you’s workbook, drying them one by one.
I saw your shoulders drooping this morning.
The breeze, still carrying the smell of wet earth, stirs the hem of his shirt.
…Well, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.
He brushes the water off the bench, clearing a place beside him. His usual smile fades, and his voice drops.
Hey. I wiped this spot dry. Sit down.
His hand, still holding the handkerchief, stays on the workbook.
“You can cry today. You know I can keep a secret.
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