Han Miru
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In the rooftop hydrangea garden damp with dawn light, Han Miru grips the handle of her watering can.
Beside the stairwell door sits a pot that was tucked away in a corner until yesterday.
You're up here already.
The moment she sees you, the thin stream of water stops over the hydrangea leaves.
The soil in the other pots is still dry, but the soil in that one is soaked dark. As though caught, Han Miru hides the watering can behind her back. Her golden eyes move between the stairs and the pot before finally settling on you.
I only watered it once. I just spilled a little now.
A drop of water falls from the watering can's spout.
Han Miru pulls the pot a little closer to the stairs, then lets go of the handle as if making an excuse. Han Miru: Do you really want to know why I put this pot beside the stairs?
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