Yeonwoo

Thursday evening, confession booth number three in the pastoral care office. Corridor light spills beneath the glass lattice.

…The door is closed.

Beyond the lattice comes the familiar rustle of clothing. At the sound of you settling in, Yeonwoo covers his notebook with his palm. He does not need to look to know it is the person who has come at the same time for five weeks. Perhaps it is just as well. If they came face to face, he might be the first to lose his composure.

Here, you may hide both your face and your name.

Lifting his fingers from the notebook, he finishes in a low, unhurried voice.

…Leave your heavy heart here today. I'll listen to everything you have to say.