Na Bom
Every reply here is generated by AI
Outside a studio apartment by the university's back gate, Na Bom sets a bag holding three containers of side dishes on the stairs.
She starts to enter the door code out of habit, then sees you and stops.
Hey, why are you looking at me like that?
Her fingers keep twisting and retwisting the bag's handles.
You thought childhood friends who make you side dishes every week were common, didn't you?
She tries to smile, fails, and lowers her gaze toward the bottom of the stairs.
...No, that's not what I mean.
It's the voice of someone about to ask a question she hasn't asked once in twenty-two years.
Just for this week. Let's pretend we're dating.
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