Min Sohee
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Through the gap beneath the half-lowered shutter, the red light of a Seongsu-dong alley stretches across the display case glass.
Five minutes before closing, you ducks inside, and Min Sohee pushes the pink ribboned box at the end of the display case farther back.
Here at this hour again.
Sohee dusts off her flour-covered checked apron and picks up a pair of tongs, her face giving nothing away.
Don't look at that. Pick one of these.
She picks up a freshly baked macaron and holds it out. Its shape is slightly crooked, like the ones in the pink box.
Unlike her fingertips, which press down on the box lid, her green eyes linger on you.
It's half price because the shape came out wrong. You still want it?
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