The Uneventful Neighborhood – Chapter 1

Electronic Display

Since moving to the new neighborhood, several bothersome things have happened, but among them, the one that stands out as particularly troublesome is the bus route.

I didn’t think the neighborhood I used to live in was such a great place to live, but at least the buses were easier to catch than here. In this neighborhood, buses don’t come often. At best, you wait 30 minutes; at worst, you’re stuck waiting for up to two hours, and some buses only come a few times a day. By comparison, the old neighborhood, where a bus would come from the depot after a 20-minute wait at most, should be called a transportation hub.

There’s at least the advantage of having many routes, so you can pick and choose whichever one to take, but even this comes with problems. The route signs at the bus stop are all worn out. There are several stickers announcing that certain routes have been discontinued due to low ridership and financial losses, but for some reason, these stickers are sometimes there and sometimes not.

Who on earth is putting them up and taking them down? Or perhaps they get peeled off by the wind and rain, and someone periodically puts them back up?

“They didn’t seem like stickers that would come off so easily.”

It’s hard to make sense of, but I have no choice but to accept it as a quirk of this rundown neighborhood. It might be a good idea to memorize the bus numbers in case the stickers fall off. The 11-1 and 11-2 buses run, but the plain 11 doesn’t. The 77 and the 7 both run, but the 7 has recently been simplified with fewer vehicles in operation. The village bus 3 runs, but the regular bus 3 has vanished without a trace. On top of that, there’s the 50, the 17, the 88… anyway, there are so many numbers that it gives me a headache.

On a rainy day, I waited for a bus at a stop where water leaked through the old roof. I wondered if the stop was so dilapidated that people didn’t ride the buses, and if the lack of riders led to the routes being cut back, but I stopped myself from dwelling on such pointless thoughts.

Buses aren’t the kind of transportation you can decide to take or not take for such trivial reasons. Even if the stop doesn’t have a single chair, you have to come if you want to catch a bus. Whether you’re a person from this world or someone from another.

“Well, at least the electronic display isn’t broken today, so that’s something.”

Still, inconvenience is inconvenience. To make matters worse, the bus displays in this neighborhood often break down. Sometimes the Windows startup screen pops up, or the screen goes completely black, showing nothing at all. Today, at least, the bus numbers are displaying properly, but even that can’t be trusted. Sometimes, the number shown isn’t for the bus that’s supposed to come.

[777, arriving shortly.]

Not the 7, not the 77—what’s that? There’s no way a bus like that stops here. Assuming it’s probably a typo somewhere, I waited for the bus. Whether it’s the 7 or the 77, it’ll get me to my destination. The 7 takes a bit of a detour, but I’m not in a hurry today, so it wouldn’t be bad to take whichever comes.

“It’s broken.”

A mutter reached my ears. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a big guy sitting down heavily next to me, yawning. I’ve seen this guy often since moving here. I’m not sure if he lives in the same apartment complex or works nearby, but our paths seem to cross often enough that I run into him frequently.

Maybe I haven’t actually seen him that often, but he’s well over two meters tall with broad shoulders, so once you see him, he leaves a strong impression. Plus, he always strikes up a conversation with me whenever we meet.

“Yeah, it’s confusing which bus is coming.”

“It says 777.”

“I’d rather it was the 77. That’d get me there faster.”

I guess in the countryside, people just strike up conversations anywhere like this. I responded a few times to keep the conversation going and then glanced at the road. A bus was approaching in the distance. I didn’t know which one it was, but I was eager to hop on and grab a seat.

It was the 777. Was there even a bus like that?

“Huh?”

“It’s broken.”

The guy repeated what he’d said earlier, lightly clicking his tongue. Broken? If the 777 was actually coming, doesn’t that mean the display was working properly? Curious about the unfamiliar bus, I glanced at its side. It read “XX City Administrative Welfare Center,” clearly a stop near my destination.

“What are you taking, mister?”

“…….”

No response—how embarrassing. Whatever, I’m taking this one. I casually folded my umbrella and waved at the bus. The bus seemed to notice me and smoothly stopped in front of me. With a hiss, the door opened, and as I grabbed the handle to step onto the stairs—

“Don’t get on, idiot. I said it’s broken.”

My collar was grabbed, and in an instant, I was sprawled on the ground. Groaning from the shock of landing on my backside, I watched the bus door close right in front of me. What the hell? The bus is leaving! The other buses won’t come for at least 20 minutes. I glared at the guy in disbelief, but he was pointing at the door.

“See? I was right.”

Could he mean the bus itself was broken? But aside from the unfamiliar number, it looked perfectly fine. Startled by his pointing, I reflexively looked toward the door without even thinking to protest. More precisely, I looked inside the bus.

There was no driver in the driver’s seat. Just an empty chair. No one was at the wheel, yet the switch for opening and closing the door moved on its own. If you looked closely, even the steering wheel seemed to be turning by itself.

I stared at the empty driver’s seat with a blank expression as the bus, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, left me behind and drove off into the distance. There wasn’t a single person in the passenger seats either, but somehow, the exit bell, which no one could have pressed, seemed to glow red.

“Uh, what?”

“No idea where it’s going, but you’re walking today.”

“It’s a 30-minute bus ride! And it’s raining!”

Still reeling from the absurdity, I retorted while getting up, but there was no one there. The guy who’d been giving me advice just moments ago had vanished into thin air or sunk into the ground. I was alone at the bus stop.

“It’s always this pattern.”

Since moving to this new neighborhood, there have been a lot of headaches. If I had to pick the biggest one, it’d be that guy who throws cryptic remarks at me and then disappears without a trace.

The bus probably won’t come today. With my mouth hanging open, I started walking down the rain-soaked street.

Kalguksu Restaurant

Looking back, my first encounter with that Mister was definitely in the downtown area.

It had been just over a week since I moved to this neighborhood. The area was already unfamiliar, and the weather had suddenly turned chilly, so wandering around unknown streets with my collar turned up made me feel gloomy in more ways than one.

In an unfamiliar city, even the same wind feels much colder. When the weather gets cold, you naturally crave something hot to eat. That’s probably why. I suddenly wanted kalguksu.

According to the map app, there was supposedly a real kalguksu gem in the downtown area of this neighborhood. It was tucked away in a corner, making it hard to find, but apparently, it was so good that people lined up to eat there. However, hunger and fatigue were unavoidable. I was also afraid of getting lost while wandering through unfamiliar alleyways in search of this so-called gem.

In the end, I put off finding the gem for later and turned my steps toward the main street. I noticed a large sign for a franchise dumpling restaurant, prominently located, with the three characters for “kalguksu” written boldly. I stepped inside without much thought. It was a franchise, after all, so surely it would at least be decent. In times like these, a safe choice is usually the best.

“There’s oddly no one here.”

It was downtown, and it was lunchtime, no less. Even if there was a popular gem nearby, was it normal for it to be this empty? Feeling a vague sense of unease, I sat down. I glanced over the menu and placed my order.

“One spicy kalguksu, please.”

I spoke loudly, but there wasn’t a single response. There weren’t even any other customers, so they couldn’t be that busy. A little acknowledgment would have been nice. Feeling a bit annoyed, I set my bag on the seat next to me, and I noticed a spoon, a water pitcher, and a water glass on the table. The glass was already filled with water.

What’s this? Had I been so out of it that I didn’t notice a server setting the table? I felt a bit flustered, but no matter how I thought about it, that couldn’t be right. Wondering if the table had been pre-set, I looked at the other tables, but mine was the only one set.

It was creepy, and I started to feel uneasy. And there was one more strange thing…

“Is it good?”

The moment I turned my head, there was a Mister sitting at the table right next to mine. Despite the chilly weather, he was wearing a thin short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, looking to be in his 40s or so. I had no idea when he’d gotten there. The restaurant was spacious with plenty of seats, so why did he have to sit right next to me?

“No, wait, in terms of order, isn’t it the other way around? Didn’t I sit next to this Mister’s table?”

I hadn’t been seated for long, so that seemed like the more reasonable assumption. Maybe he saw me sit right next to him, despite all the other empty tables, and felt like striking up a conversation. After a moment’s thought, I gave the politest response I could muster.

“Uh, well… I’d have to eat it to know, right?”

“You’re going to eat that?”

The man pointed at the table with his finger. That? The water? Reflexively glancing at the table, I saw a bowl of spicy kalguksu, steam rising from its red broth, right in front of me. Wait a second. It hadn’t even been that long since I ordered.

Does this place serve food unusually fast? But that didn’t add up, because the man’s table still only had a glass of water and a spoon.

“Yeah, I guess.”

I ordered it, so of course I’d eat it. I cautiously picked up the spoon, tasted the broth, and blew on the noodles before putting them in my mouth. Honestly, it just tasted like kalguksu. It was exactly the kind of flavor you’d expect from kalguksu, so I had no complaints, but it wasn’t so delicious that I was blown away. Unlike typical kalguksu, though, there were long strips of what seemed like meat as a garnish, but they had a strangely undercooked taste that was off. It might’ve been my imagination, but the noodles also felt more tough than chewy…

“How is it?”

“Uh, well… it’s kalguksu. Spicy.”

“Really? You going to eat more?”

“I mean, I’ve only had one bite, so yeah, I’ll keep eating. Are you thinking of ordering something, Mister?”

“Dunno.”

“Oh, are you still deciding on the menu?”

No response. I thought he’d struck up a conversation because he was mulling over what to order, but the man wasn’t even looking at the menu—he was just staring at me. Feeling awkward, I spoke up again.

“This place doesn’t have many people.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to order, Mister?”

“Dunno.”

“You’re not seriously going to leave without ordering anything, are you?”

“You’d probably be better off doing that.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Is this guy really planning to leave without ordering anything? With the table already set and everything? Worried that the staff might give him a hard time, I glanced toward the kitchen, but there was no one there.

Maybe the server went to the bathroom. But that’s strange. Even so, would they really leave a customer who hasn’t ordered yet and go to the bathroom? It wouldn’t be that odd if they were in a rush, but still.

“There’s a reason this place is empty. The staff must be unfriendly.”

I was about to grumble about the staff who didn’t take orders and left their post when a thought hit me. Could this guy be connected to the restaurant? Maybe the owner, or a staff member, or even a friend of the owner or staff. That might explain why he’s just sitting there without ordering.

But that’s strange too. If that were the case, why would they bother setting the table with water and a spoon? And there’s no way they’d say something rude like “you’d be better off leaving” to a customer.

While pondering this, I came up with another hypothesis, one that felt a bit unsettling. It might be terribly rude. Saying it out loud could get me a punch in the face. But still, just in case.

“Hey, if you’re curious about the taste, want to try a bite of mine? It’s not bad.”

“…What?”

“There’s a side plate here. I’ll scoop some out for you. You know, try it, and if it’s good, you can order it.”

“…….”

“And, this is really just a maybe, but if you want to eat but can’t… you can have some of this. I’m totally fine with it.”

The man stared at me with a look of disbelief. Oh, was that offer a bit too much? Even so, I might’ve been so tired that I blurted out something reckless.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“You say stuff like that to just anyone, you’re gonna get in big trouble.”

“Uh, I’m sorry.”

As expected, I got scolded. My face flushed red with embarrassment. Even so, I’d crossed a line. Even if I’d offered to buy him a bowl, he’d probably get mad for treating him like a charity case, but I went as far as offering him my half-eaten food.

I don’t even know what I just said. I bowed my head in apology. Even if the guy got really mad, I was prepared to take it to some extent, but still…

“…Fine. You haven’t paid yet, so there’s still room to back out. Let’s say it’s my food, and I’ll cover the bill.”

“What?”

“But don’t forget that this ties us together. I can’t let you off without some kind of price, so let’s call it even with this.”

Wait, the bill? Ties? Price? What’s he talking about? I blinked in confusion, and suddenly, the man’s fist came flying. The moment his rough punch hit my head, I snapped to my senses.

As I instinctively gasped, an inexplicable sensation of falling washed over me. It was like waking up from a dream of plummeting off a cliff.

“…Gah!”

When I came to, I was still inside the restaurant. But the situation was quite different from before. The restaurant’s tables were fairly full of people, and I wasn’t at a table but at the counter. The bowl of kalguksu that had been steaming in front of me moments ago was gone.

A female student sitting next to me, picking clamshells out of her clam kalguksu, glanced at me with a skeptical look. A server, who was far from going to the bathroom and instead bustling around, placed a bowl in front of me. It was dumpling kalguksu with two large dumplings.

“Here’s the dumpling kalguksu you ordered.”

“…I ordered this?”

“You did. It’s checked off on the receipt right here.”

I stared blankly at the receipt. It was a receipt for a menu that didn’t even include spicy kalguksu. This suits your taste better. The Mister’s calm whisper seemed to echo in my ears like a hallucination.

The dumpling kalguksu wasn’t that great. The dumpling skins were tough, the broth was oddly murky, and the side of kimchi was too bland to pair with the kalguksu. Vowing to make the effort to find that hidden gem in the alley next time, I left the restaurant.

Kalguksu Restaurant, Back Alley

……

You eat meat too? I didn’t know that.

……

There’s nothing I can’t eat. I don’t particularly like it, though.

……

That’s fine then. Just don’t complain to me that it tastes bad. But listen, you can’t go eating kids. From the sound of his voice, he was practically a sprout.

……

I didn’t eat him. I’m telling you, he offered it to me first. Good instincts.

……

Good instincts, huh. Not sure about good luck, though.

……

Luck’s not great. By the way, if you know a guy doesn’t have the means to pay, don’t serve him food.

……

Maybe he could’ve paid, you never know.

……

Don’t be ridiculous.

……

It’s not ridiculous, I genuinely don’t know. How do you judge whether a customer can pay or not just from their voice? Customers are supposed to pay for their food, aren’t they?

……

This isn’t some fly-by-night operation, so why run things so haphazardly? You should hire more staff. Preferably the kind that can tell customers apart. Isn’t it getting tough to run this place on your own?

……

Easy for you to say when it’s not your business. So, no additional orders?

……

Right. I’ll eat this and go. Three leaves for the bill, yeah?

……

The man split open the bud and gulped down the red broth in one go. It had a fishy, salty taste. The customers filling the tables snickered mockingly at the man, whispering among themselves.

Streamside Streetlights

If I were to list the drawbacks of the new neighborhood I moved to, there would be countless ones, but that doesn’t mean there are no advantages at all.

The biggest advantage is the stream that runs behind the apartment complex. Of course, like most things in this neighborhood, the stream is a bit rough around the edges, it’s true. It’s not like the streams in big cities with neatly paved bike paths or walkways, and there are stretches where sediment has piled up or the ground is pitted, making it hard to walk. Still, a stream is part of nature, so it’s more or less fine. A riverbank is supposed to have some rocks embedded and grass growing to have that certain charm.

Since moving to this neighborhood, I’ve become completely enamored with the stream, and it’s become a daily routine to slip on my walking shoes every evening and stroll along it. Personally, what I like most about this stream is that, despite being so overgrown with grass, there are oddly no bugs. It’s not like the neighborhood I used to live in didn’t have a stream, but that one, while it had a well-paved walkway, was plagued by swarms of gnats floating around in the evening, harassing people.

Where did I hear that from? Something about gnats hovering around people’s heads because they mate at higher altitudes. I never liked gnats to begin with, but after hearing that story, my disgust grew even stronger, and back in my old neighborhood, I never went near the stream.

But in this neighborhood, I don’t even see a single common ant, let alone gnats. Maybe this place is surprisingly thorough with pest control.

“A rural neighborhood isn’t all bad. If I walk like this every day, I bet I’ll get super healthy.”

The stream in the evening had a somewhat lonely yet serene atmosphere. It’s been three days since I last came to the stream. The first two days, it rained so much that I couldn’t come. Yesterday, the rain had tapered off to a drizzle, so it wasn’t impossible to walk, but because of that Mister’s interference, I missed the bus and had to walk nearly two hours round-trip. Forget the stream—I was so exhausted when I got home that I collapsed.

“I overdid it yesterday, so I shouldn’t walk too much today.”

I made that resolution, but before I knew it, I’d absentmindedly walked quite far. With my earphones playing a favorite song and the dry, walkable dirt path underfoot, I got carried away and walked a good distance. When I came to my senses, I was so far out that I was on a path I’d never seen before.

“Wow, the sun’s setting.”

When I left the house, the sky had just a hint of red, but now the sun had fully set. The sky was awash in red, and on the opposite side of the sunset, a purple night was creeping in. It must’ve gotten quite late, because the streetlights, which had been off earlier, were starting to flicker on one by one.

“I’d better head back. I didn’t mean to walk this much.”

According to my original plan, I was supposed to walk a bit, then head home to clean, do laundry, and prepare side dishes for the next week, but if I lingered here too long, I’d be pressed for time.

I hurried along, measuring my steps by the streetlights, which cast a painfully bright glow. Some of the streetlights flickered a bit, but that added its own kind of ambiance. Despite the thorough pest control that keeps bugs at bay, the streetlights in this neighborhood are excessively old, often flickering or going out entirely.

How far do I have to walk to reach a familiar path? Even if I was caught up in the music, it’s not like me to walk so absentmindedly that I don’t even know where I am. Maybe I was more tired than I thought. Not physically, but mentally.

“No, my body’s starting to feel tired too.”

My feet already felt numb and swollen. If I didn’t rest a bit here, I’d definitely have foot problems tomorrow. I haven’t even made it back yet, and I’m already this worn out—have I been walking for at least two hours without realizing it? Since I’m already late, should I take a break nearby and grab some water?

I looked around for a bench to sit on, when suddenly a voice came from behind me.

“You really do wander around anywhere, don’t you? I didn’t expect to run into you in a place like this.”

Turning around, I saw a gruff face. It was that Mister again. He must’ve been out exercising too, because his gray t-shirt was soaked with sweat. He was already muscular, but with his shirt clinging to him, his broad chest was blatantly on display.

Honestly, I agree with what he said. Even if we run into each other often, I never imagined we’d meet by this stream. At this point, it almost feels like we’re fated or something.

“Yeah, I really didn’t expect to meet you here.”

“This isn’t even near your place. What are you doing out here?”

“I just ended up here while walking. By the way, there’s nowhere to sit around here. I’m tired.”

“Don’t sit.”

His blunt reply reminded me of my father’s nagging—rest standing up, because if you sit, you’ll be too tired to get back up. I gave a wry smile. But for someone saying that, the Mister himself looked oddly exhausted. I don’t know how long he’d been running, but he was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.

He was even staring intently at the water bottle in my hand, clearly parched, so I instinctively offered it to him.

“Hey, if you’re thirsty, want a sip of my water?”

“You remember what I told you when we first met? Don’t do stuff like that.”

“First met? Are you talking about when I offered you kalguksu? If it’s about that, I’m sorry… but what does that have to do with this?”

His reaction was somehow cold and uneasy. Come on, this isn’t like treating him like a beggar, is it? If I’d offered a half-drunk bottle while picking out items at a convenience store, he might’ve been offended, but offering water on a streamside path with no shops in sight is just normal kindness. With a bewildered expression, I tried again.

“Uh, anyway, have a sip. If you get dehydrated, it could be trouble.”

As I held out the bottle, the man looked at me with disbelief, then took it and drank. For someone who’d brusquely refused, saying not to do stuff like that, he downed the entire 500ml bottle in one go. He must’ve been really thirsty.

“Thanks for the water. Since I’ve helped you out a few times, think of it as fair trade, right?”

“You say some cryptic stuff sometimes, Mister. You done running?”

“My throat’s not dry anymore, so I’m good. Don’t need to run.”

I don’t get the connection. Didn’t he get thirsty from sweating while running? Or maybe he was running home to drink water because he was parched. Whatever the reason, it seemed like he’d decided to walk from now on.

“Is this that interval training thing? Running and walking. I heard it burns a lot of calories if done right.”

“I’m not trying to lose weight.”

“Well, you’re already so muscular, so I guess you don’t need to. Oh, wait, doesn’t cardio cause muscle loss?”

“I don’t care about that.”

I thought he was into fitness, but apparently not. Come to think of it, isn’t all that muscle loss talk just a social media meme? People who show off about fitness online are the ones obsessing over muscle loss, but regular guys who don’t use the internet probably don’t care much about it.

Anyway, I walked leisurely with the Mister. The path still didn’t look familiar no matter how far we went, but having someone I knew beside me made me feel more energized than before. The streetlights stretched on endlessly, and the sky grew darker. The vast, sprawling scenery calmed my mind.

But then I noticed something strange. Every time I approached a streetlight, the ones nearby started flickering oddly. I don’t know if they were designed that way or just broken, but it was subtly irritating to my eyes.

“I thought the streetlights were orange earlier, but now they’ve got a bluish tint.”

No, looking closely, the light subtly changed every time they flickered. The light went warm, then cool, then cool, then warm, repeating. Was it called cool and warm tones? I think I learned it in art class, but it’s been so long I can’t remember clearly. Anyway, the fact that the streetlights changed color every time they flickered—whether intentional or not—felt somehow unsettling.

And then I realized one more thing.

“That’s weird. Didn’t he just disappear?”

For a while now, the Mister kept appearing and disappearing. And it was in sync with the flickering of the streetlights. When the light was orange, he was gone, but when it had a bluish tint, he was there. The moment I realized this, a chill ran down my spine.

Of course, logically, it’s probably because of where we’re walking. The Mister had been walking slightly behind me the whole time. He’s clearly taller, so his strides must be wider and faster, but it’s like he’s deliberately slowing down to match my pace.

“He’s probably just moving around. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.”

The Mister had been staggering a bit, clearly tired from running, and his body swayed side to side as he walked. When he moved into my blind spot, I couldn’t see him, and when he came back into view, I could—maybe the timing just happened to match the flickering streetlights.

There’s an easy way to check. Just turn around the moment the streetlight changes color. I liked the simplicity of it and decided to test it at the next streetlight. Let’s see, the next one’s coming up soon. Right about… now, let’s turn and look.

Don’t do that.

“…Huh?”

He was gone. Not just the Mister, but even the streetlights that had been brightly illuminating the world. Every single one along the riverbank, which had been flickering and annoying me, was now off.

Did they all break at once? Bewildered, I looked up at the sky and grew even more confused. The sky was bright. Not in a suspicious or eerie way, but bright like a normal evening. Bright enough that there’d be no need to turn on the streetlights.

This doesn’t make sense. Wasn’t the sky dark just a moment ago? Panicked, I pulled out my phone to check the exact time. But at that moment, a bluish light snapped on behind me. Instinctively turning to check the blue glow, I caught sight of the Mister in the corner of my vision, looking down at me with a sullen expression.

Turning back again, the streetlights were on as normal, and the sky was dark like before. I stared at the Mister blankly, thinking this was some ghostly nonsense. Still, I felt a strange relief knowing he hadn’t completely vanished.

“What the heck, you scared me! You were right there?”

“What got you so spooked?”

“Oh, nothing. The sky suddenly looked weirdly bright for a second. And it felt like you disappeared… I know you’re the type to vanish a lot, Mister, but it’s still unsettling when someone who was there is suddenly gone.”

“Yeah?”

“You look and act a bit suspicious, but somehow being around you makes me feel oddly calm. Reliable, maybe. We’re not exactly close or anything, just people who keep running into each other, but it feels like I’ve made a friend.”

“…….”

“Speaking of which, Mister, could you at least say goodbye before you go? Every time, I blink, and you’re gone. Do you know how creepy that is?”

I put on an exaggerated, cheeky grin and grumbled at the man. Thinking about it, there’s something strange about him. Logically, I should find him suspicious, but for some reason, I keep getting the impression he’s not a bad person. It feels like he’s helped me out a few times too.

“Having even one person you know in an unfamiliar neighborhood where you have no ties feels reassuring, doesn’t it?”

I’m usually bad at initiating relationships, so when someone approaches me first like this, I’m always thrilled, no matter who they are. My friends from school used to say I have the face of someone who’d get scammed easily, but luckily, I’ve never been scammed. Most people who actively approach me like this have been good people.

But the man didn’t seem to share that sentiment. He clicked his tongue and muttered in a disapproving tone.

“You should be more scared of me being around.”

“What?”

“Nothing. By the way, don’t you need to head up from here?”

The Mister said this while pointing to the uphill path beside the stream. He was right. If I went up from here and walked a bit, I’d reach my apartment complex. But that’s strange. I could’ve sworn getting home would take forever, so how did I get here so fast? Does walking with someone really make long distances feel shorter?

Anyway, I was glad to have arrived. I wondered if the Mister was heading up too, but it seemed he planned to keep walking. Maybe he has to walk further to get home.

“You going further, Mister?”

“Something like that.”

“Then take care getting home.”

“Yeah.”

The moment he finished speaking, the man vanished. He didn’t listen to a word I said. Feeling exasperated, I stared into the empty air, when suddenly a cool breeze seemed to brush past my ear.

Get home safe. Watch out for the streetlights.

“Huh?”

It felt like someone whispered in my ear just now. I pondered for a moment what “watch out for the streetlights” could mean, but no answer came, so I trudged home, clutching the empty water bottle. The streetlights didn’t change color once the whole way back.

When I got home and finally checked the time on my phone, it was 6:27 PM. Even if autumn means shorter days, it’s not yet time for the sun to set and streetlights to come on. Wondering whether I’d gained or lost time, I stayed lost in a puzzled mood the whole time I showered.

Streamside Streetlights, Back Alley

……

I thought I was going to die. Can you lend me some clothes to change into?

……

How did you end up in such a state? Your body is covered in blood. And you’ve lost several buds too.

……

Life throws all kinds of things at you. But I survived thanks to some clean water.

……

You got clean water even before returning to the colony? How?

……

Someone helped me.

……

Wait a second, a person? You’re saying a person helped you? What about the price?

……

I’ve been steadily building up credit, so it’s fine. Turns out living kindly does pay off.

……

Honestly, I can’t figure out what you’re thinking these days. Back in the day, you acted like you didn’t care about anyone, let alone people.

……

Did I? By the way, there’s been a lot of stuff breaking down in our neighborhood lately. Last time, it was the bus display, and today, it’s the streetlights.

……

Is that so? Well, our neighborhood has plenty of worn-out corners. But the hunters are working hard, so don’t worry too much.

……

I guess you’re right. Anyway, I’m going to sleep. It’s too late to soak up sunlight, but I’ll take in some moonlight at least.

……

Sleep well, ******. Sweet dreams.

Café Window Seat

On the weekend, I stopped by a café. The familiar franchise café of a well-known brand was already packed with customers who had come for similar reasons, so after a bit of legwork, I decided to settle at a local café.

I stared blankly at the menu board, written in neat handwriting, lost in thought. Ordering an Americano at a café feels like a bit of a waste. After all, I can brew coffee at home, and the Americano at an average café doesn’t taste much different from the coffee I make myself.

No, it’s not even about brewed coffee—there’s hardly any difference compared to the instant Americano packets. Coffee experts might be outraged to hear this, but my tongue is dull, so what can I do?

“One Java Chip Frappuccino, please.”

A Java Chip Frappuccino isn’t easy to make at home, and above all, it’s sweet. Even if I tried to replicate it at home, the hassle aside, the guilt from all that sweetness would stop me. It’s not that I dislike bitter flavors and order this instead. I’ve always just preferred slushy drinks like this.

“You always order that. The weather’s gotten pretty chilly, hasn’t it?”

“Huh? Oh, I like sweet things. These days, lots of people drink iced Americanos even in winter, don’t they?”

I gave an awkward laugh, and the café part-timer flashed a small smile. He had a somewhat vague demeanor but was oddly sociable, always tossing in a couple of casual remarks whenever he took an order. He sometimes gave out free cookies or mini scones as a bonus, so I thought well of him.

“By the way, this café is pretty empty.”

It’s not my first time here, but every time I come, it feels like there aren’t many people. The interior is nicely done, the staff are friendly, the drinks are tasty, and the restroom I’ve used a few times is clean, always stocked with tissue and soap. Among the cafés I visit, this one’s pretty decent, so why are there so few customers?

“We’ll let you know with the buzzer. Please wait a moment!”

I took the buzzer and sat at a window seat with a nice view, pondering why the places I like are always so empty. Come to think of it, the stream I often visit is strangely devoid of people too. It’s a dirt path, sure, but it’s not that bumpy, and it’s a good course for exercise, so you’d think people would come by more often. The café, the stream—maybe my tastes are a bit weird.

“Uh, is there an outlet seat here?”

“Oh, sorry! Our café doesn’t have outlet seats! If you need to charge your phone, would you mind using the charger at the counter?”

“…No, it’s fine.”

Oh, maybe there’s a reason it’s so empty? With my mouth hanging open, I glanced at the college student ordering a drink from the part-timer and tried to suppress a laugh. Judging by the large backpack on his back, he probably came to use his laptop.

Well, people who use cafés as study spaces don’t often come to ones without outlets. Those who come to chat might not mind as much, but even they often find it inconvenient if there’s no outlet. I’ve relied on cafés during college midterms or finals myself, so I could relate.

So there was a reason for the lack of customers. I don’t need to use a laptop, and my phone’s fully charged, so it’s fine for me. As I basked in the warm sunlight and took out the book I brought from my bag, I suddenly felt a heavy presence across from me.

“Whoa, you startled me.”

“…Uh, I think I’m the one who should be saying that.”

Snapping to attention, I realized the Mister was sitting in the seat across from me. His eyes were wide, staring at me, genuinely startled. I may get told I’m a bit spacey, but I’m not so oblivious that I’d naturally sit at a table with someone already there.

Could the Mister have slyly taken the seat across from me and then acted surprised? That thought crossed my mind, but on the table was a steaming, dark red drink that looked hot. Since he already had a drink, it meant he was here first.

It seemed he’d come to relax and sip something in a sunny spot too. His outfit wasn’t the usual tight t-shirt but a slightly loose knit sweater, and he was holding a novel-sized book. I only noticed now, but he was wearing glasses too. Maybe the type who only wears them for reading?

Anyway, interrupting someone’s weekend relaxation isn’t right. Wondering if I should move to another seat, I glanced around.

“Uh, if it’s uncomfortable, should I move?”

“Don’t move.”

“Don’t move?”

“This is a sunny spot, so you probably want to sit here too, right? If you’re not bothered, you can stay. No need to suddenly move somewhere else now.”

The Mister replied, giving the empty tables around us an odd glance. Well, it might be a bit awkward if I sat here first and then said I’d move. His tone was a bit gruff, but maybe deep down he’s okay with me being here? Feeling a ticklish sensation, I leaned back in my chair.

“Alright, I’ll stay then. You here to read?”

“Yeah. It’s the weekend, and the weather’s nice. Perfect day to relax at a café.”

“True, that’s why I came too. What’s that drink?”

“Sap.”

“Sap…?”

“Just kidding. It’s actually red bean porridge.”

“They sell that here? Is it a seasonal menu?”

Even if it’s a seasonal item, it wasn’t on the menu. Maybe it’s a secret menu only locals know about. Something like handmade red bean porridge takes a lot of effort, so maybe only regulars order it. With him calling it “sap,” could it be a health-boosting red bean porridge that gives you energy like an IV drip?

Should I order it from the part-timer later? I’m not really a fan of red bean porridge and wouldn’t normally seek it out at a café, but… seeing the Mister drink it made it look oddly tasty.

“It must be really finely ground red bean porridge. It smells good.”

The man sipped his red bean porridge from the cup, leisurely reading his book. The book had a cover, so I couldn’t see the title, but he was engrossed, so it must be interesting. I decided to read my book until my drink arrived, but despite my resolve, my gaze kept wandering.

“…The glasses suit him. He looks kinda handsome, or is that just me?”

At some point, my eyes kept drifting to the man across from me. The essay book I’d borrowed from the library was just sitting in my hands. I used to think of him as just a tall, muscular guy, but seeing him sit and read like this made him seem oddly intellectual. He wouldn’t look out of place doing physical work, but he could pass for an ordinary office worker too. Not that it’s my place to judge someone’s job…

“Come to think of it, I’ve never asked his name.”

What’s your name? Where do you live? Those questions are too personal for someone you meet on the street, but they seem appropriate for someone you’ve run into multiple times and are now sitting across from at a café table.

He’s always the one starting conversations with me, but he asks so few questions. It’s like he’s not remotely curious about where I live, who I am, or what kind of person I am. Is he just naturally reserved? Older folks usually ask these things first. Asking personal questions of someone older might be rude.

“But… I’d like to have a good relationship with him.”

What “good relationship” means exactly is hard to define. Do I want to be friends? Or, though it sounds old-fashioned, neighbors? I know from experience that strange things happen around him, and my gut tells me he’s not exactly ordinary.

But still, I want to get to know him better. It’s weird to use this expression for a 40-something Mister, but, well, I…

“……?!”

Suddenly, my hand reached out. It wasn’t for any specific reason but more of an impulse. Bathed in the sunlight, the man seemed to shimmer faintly, and his focused expression had an oddly captivating quality. Without fully understanding what I wanted, I touched his cheek with my hand. Warmth met my fingertips.

“Uh, uh…?”

It felt soft yet slightly rough. No, wait—before that, the man was startled. Seeing his wide eyes and gaping mouth, I realized what I’d done. What did I just do? No matter how I think about it, this was way ruder than asking his name or where he lives…

“What the hell. You, what did you just—”

“No, I mean, that was, I’m sorr—”

I should apologize first. Forget thinking he looked cute with his flushed face—I need to bow my head and say sorry for doing something rude again. With that thought, I scrambled to speak, but at that moment.

[Weeeeeng.]

The loud buzzing of the buzzer snapped me to attention. My eyes flicked to the flashing red buzzer, and when I looked up, I realized the man was gone. The seat in front of me was empty. No steaming red bean porridge, no covered book, not even the man himself.

What? Did he run off in a panic? Staring blankly into space, trying to process my bewilderment, I grabbed the still-buzzing, flashing buzzer and hurriedly walked to the counter. The café part-timer looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“Weren’t you in the bathroom?”

“Bathroom? No, I was sitting there the whole time.”

“That’s weird, I could’ve sworn you weren’t there earlier… Anyway, your drink’s ready. This is on the house.”

“…A cake?”

“Yup. Chocolate crepe cake. It’s a new item our boss made, and it’s delicious. Try it and let us know what you think.”

“Uh, thanks. By the way, did you see a Mister sitting at my table?”

“A Mister? No, I didn’t… Oh.”

The café part-timer tilted his head with an odd expression, then smiled as if he’d realized something. It was still a vague smile, but it felt forced, like he was shuddering at something unsettling.

“That kind of thing happens a lot at this café. That’s why it’s so empty.”

“What kind of thing? What do you mean?”

“It’s a bit hard for me to explain… Oh, sorry, I just got a call from the boss. Mind if I take it?”

I nodded dazedly, picked up the tray, and returned to my seat. What kind of thing? Someone getting so flustered by unintended physical contact that they bolt? If that happens a lot, it’d definitely make sitting nearby awkward. With that thought, I munched on my drink and cake.

The cake was definitely tasty, but paired with a sweet Frappuccino, it was almost overwhelmingly sweet. Next time, I’ll order it with coffee, I resolved inwardly.

Café Window Seat, Back Alley, Epilogue.

…

…

…

…

…

Listen, I’ve heard that story before.

…

They say a flower bud is kind of like a reproductive organ for plants.

…

Don’t talk nonsense, you little rat. This is something like a face! Not a real face, but still!

…

Are you leaving, sir? Since everyone in the shop got to witness something curious for the first time in a while, we could call that payment enough, but…

…

Shut up. What am I, a spectacle? If it’s about payment, I’ll settle it, so forget it while I’m asking nicely. Got it?

The man huffed, tore off several leaves, slapped them on the counter, and left the place as if fleeing. The manager watched his retreating figure with an intrigued look, then carefully gathered the leaves and fed them into the POS machine. The part-timers, whispering among themselves while braiding their hair into wriggling strands, quickly started brewing sap under the manager’s sharp glare.

— Hello? Uh, Manager?

— Hey, Hwayoung. What’s up all of a sudden? You sound upset.

— Well, uh, you see. It happened again. Again…

— Don’t be vague, explain it properly. I have a guess, but who is it this time?

— That guy I mentioned before, you know, the one I talked about over lunch. Really shiny and handsome, always orders a Java Chip Frappuccino.

— Oh, the one who looks a bit scatterbrained?

— Yes, yes. That customer disappeared and then showed up again. It was, like, five minutes or so. Uh, he always sits by the window, right? To go to the bathroom or the front door from that spot, he’d have to pass the counter. And he’d need to take the key for the bathroom.

— Right.

— I was putting whipped cream on his drink, and suddenly he was gone. I thought maybe he moved seats, but that wasn’t it. The bathroom key was still there. Even his bag was gone.

— You thought he might’ve stepped out while you were making his drink… Hmm, but if his bag disappeared too, that’s definitely strange.

— Strange, right! I mean, even if someone steps away briefly, they usually leave their bag behind… You’ll see when you check the CCTV later.

— Got it, I understand what you’re saying. Anyway, I thought we’d get through this week without incident, but here we go again. No wonder the shop’s always empty with stuff like this happening.

— And, uh, how should I put it. There was one more weird thing. Actually, that’s kind of why I called.

— What’s that?

— That customer, after disappearing for about five minutes, came back with the order buzzer and asked if I’d seen some Mister.

— Mister? Why would he ask that out of the blue?

— I don’t know either. But the thing is, no one named Mister came to the shop today… I’m a bit worried that maybe he vanished right after entering the café. That guy came back, but I haven’t seen any sign of this Mister guy even now. I’m wondering if we might get a missing person report at the café…

— Wait, is that for real?

— Huh?

— So, what you’re saying is, while that guy was gone for a bit, he saw this Mister? Someone who wasn’t even in the shop?

— Uh, does it work out like that?

— …This is a first. I thought that place was a world with no people at all.

— Uh, Manager? I don’t really get what you mean.

— Oh, it’s nothing. Anyway, good work, and since things turned out like this, I’ll add 200,000 won to your paycheck this month. Finish closing up and head home.

— Oh, thank you!

— And what did you give him as a freebie this time?

— Uh, a chocolate crepe cake…

— You don’t have to cover that one out of your pocket. We’ll call it new product promotion. So, how’s it going? Does that customer seem into you?

— Honestly, I don’t think he’s interested at all… But, well, he looks cute when he’s eating.

— I swear, I’ll never understand what young people are thinking these days. Alright, get home safe.

Convenience Store

I don’t know why, but after that day, I didn’t see Mister for a while.

‘Is he mad? Well, it’s true that he has reason to be upset, but still….’

I stopped by the neighborhood café we went to before, but Mister wasn’t there. I waited at the bus stop, letting several buses pass by, walked and jogged back and forth along the stream we often visited, and even went to the kalguksu restaurant in the downtown area where we first met, but that Mister was nowhere to be found.

‘It feels like I dreamed it all.’

Come to think of it, whenever I was with that Mister, it always felt a bit like a dream. Wasn’t there a water jug or food on the table without a waiter ever coming by? Didn’t the sky brighten and darken every time the streetlights changed color? Maybe that Mister was just a figment of my dreams, and I’m foolishly clinging to it, mistaking it for reality.

‘…Or is it just my imagination? Even without Mister, weird things seem to happen from time to time.’

I’ve never seen bus number 777, but I have seen bus 999—1. Of course, it’s not a route that runs in our neighborhood. I’ve learned my lesson and didn’t get on, but there was still no driver in the driver’s seat. The streetlights by the stream flickered even when Mister wasn’t around, and when I took out my phone to time it, the flickering stopped as if by magic.

On top of that, lately, the café’s manager has been there more often instead of the part-timer, and he doesn’t give out freebies. He has this strange way of looking at me, like he’s observing me, which makes me feel uneasy. Did that part-timer get on the manager’s bad side? She was always giving out free stuff to people, so it’s understandable if the manager got annoyed, but I liked her friendliness.

Anyway, despite all my efforts, I couldn’t catch even a glimpse of Mister’s shadow for a while. He’s so tall and well-built that I’d recognize him from a distance.

‘Forget it, let’s not do anything stupid. Work’s been hectic lately, and I’m too drained….’

After about a month, I gave up looking for Mister. With the year-end approaching, my company’s schedule got busier, which was a big factor. Naturally, I had more late nights at work, and even if Mister wanted to meet up, I was often too busy or got off too late to make it happen.

Looking back, the company had been unusually quiet for the past few months. Our industry typically has clear off-seasons, but this year was especially slow. I managed to move to a new place during that downtime and met up with Mister, but now it’s getting overwhelming. Work was piling up as if to make up for all the idle time, and I was practically buried under it.

It was one of those days. Exhausted from work, I stopped by the neighborhood convenience store to grab some snacks. This store, typical of a rural area, doesn’t have a huge selection, but oddly enough, it often stocks items you wouldn’t find at downtown convenience stores.

‘Let’s see. Four cans of beer for 10,000 won… Nah, I’ve been drinking too much lately. Let’s get sparkling water instead.’

I’m not a big drinker and don’t particularly enjoy it, but at company dinners, I end up sipping a glass or two of soju whether I like it or not. I don’t even drink much, but my liver already feels like it’s struggling. I don’t want to end up like our department head, whose face is always sallow.

I picked out three bottles of sparkling water from a two-plus-one deal and was choosing some snacks when I overheard students sitting at a table, waiting for their cup ramen to cook, chatting away. These days, unless it’s a tiny convenience store, most have tables like a café. I rarely sit at them, but they seem to be a decent hangout spot for students.

“Hey, speaking of, I heard some creepy rumors today.”

I couldn’t help but listen in. Kids that age talking about rumors usually means something about friendships or school drama, but there’s something oddly captivating about overhearing strangers’ stories in a place like this. Of course, since it’s about people I don’t know, it’s not that interesting, and it’ll probably vanish from my mind the moment I leave the store.

“You know how our neighborhood is pretty empty, so you often walk alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, when you’re walking alone like that, sometimes you hear someone calling you from behind or beside you. Someone you don’t know, acting weirdly familiar.”

“Ugh, that’s creepy. Like a cult? Even in a backwater place like this, there are cult recruiters now?”

But it wasn’t that. The story was more intriguing than I expected, so I pretended to browse the snack aisle while lingering near the students’ table. They were saying it was creepy but giggling and laughing.

You know, I think I get that feeling. Running into cult recruiters on the street can be kind of scary. There are Christian ones, Buddhist ones, and all sorts of varieties these days, and once you encounter them, they’re hard to shake off, which is a hassle. I once got caught by a cult member at a crosswalk with a long red light, and they held me up with all sorts of excuses, completely ruining my day.

“Yeah, feels like a cult, right? They say these people don’t even mention religion at first and just talk about normal stuff, so you don’t suspect anything.”

“No ‘you have a bright aura’ or offering personality tests?”

“Nope, none of that. I mean, who falls for those obvious lines anymore? They probably wait until you’re buddies before pushing religion. But here’s the important part.”

“What? What’s important?”

“Normally, you’d brush them off, saying you’re busy or have to go, right? But then they say, ‘If you’re busy, I won’t keep you, but at least take this,’ and hand you something. Like adrink, snacks, or tissues.”

“Oh, like that church near our apartment? They give out stuff like scrubbers or trash bags while preaching. My mom loves it when I bring those home.”

“Right? But the thing is, they say you should never take anything these cult people try to give you. No matter how harmless it looks. If you take it, even by mistake, you get dragged away.”

Dragged away? Like to some shady basement where they confiscate your phone and force you to study their doctrine? Or like those human trafficking rumors that used to trend on SNS? Maybe the food’s laced with sedatives, and you pass out after eating it?

Sure, these days, stories like that are mostly dismissed as exaggerations or lies, but there are still plenty of weirdos out there. The chance of running into a lunatic is slim, but if you do, whether it’s a 1% or 100% chance, it’s all the same. Shuddering at the uneasy feeling, I noticed something on the shelf.

‘Oh, those snacks look good.’

It was a ramen-flavored snack with some unfamiliar language on the package. Not English, Chinese, or Japanese, but some curly script—maybe Southeast Asian? I’m not sure, but I like snacks like this. Foreign snacks are surprisingly tasty. It’s only 1,000 won, so trying it out seems fine.

Holding the sparkling water, PrXngles, BaXnana Kick, and the ramen snack, I headed to the counter. But there was no clerk. I could’ve sworn someone was standing there just a moment ago.

Did they go to the bathroom? Or maybe they’re restocking? I looked around to call for the clerk when a voice suddenly came from right beside me.

“Those snacks are good.”

I turned to see a boy, probably a middle schooler, in a school uniform. With chubby cheeks and a youthful look, he could’ve passed for a tall elementary schooler if he were in casual clothes. But, what the heck? It was so out of the blue that I wondered if I’d grabbed the last ramen snack he wanted.

This felt eerily similar to the rumor I’d just overheard. Someone talking to you from behind, right? Of course, this isn’t an empty place, so it’s not exactly the same. There’s the clerk, and the students eating cup ramen and chatting at the table…

‘Wait, it’s suddenly quiet.’

I glanced over, and the students who’d been talking were gone, as if they’d never been there. Feeling like I’d been bewitched, I looked around frantically, but the boy, oblivious to my confusion, kept talking.

“I heard the rumors. Didn’t expect you to look like this.”

“R-rumors?”

“They say that Mister’s been wandering around half out of his mind lately. You come here often?”

Mister. That one word made my body react instinctively. Does this kid know that Mister? I stared at him, suddenly intrigued. The boy looked up at me with a gleeful expression, like he’d found something amusing. It was oddly unsettling.

“I come to this convenience store a lot.”

“Really? This is the first time I’ve seen you here.”

“Maybe our schedules don’t match…”

“Maybe. Could be. But, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Since we met like this, want these snacks?”

The boy held out the ramen snack. He hasn’t even paid for it, and he’s offering it to me? Is this kid weird? His attitude seemed completely innocent, but a chill ran down my spine, like I’d been offered something incredibly dangerous.

“You take these snacks, and I’ll tell you about that Mister. You look curious.”

Seeing my uneasy expression, the boy quickly added, sounding eager. Honestly, I am curious. But something feels off, like the cost-benefit doesn’t add up. This kid’s offering me snacks and info about Mister, but I have nothing to give him in return.

[Don’t do stuff like that.]

Why do I keep hearing that Mister’s gruff, habitual phrase? Come to think of it, he always said that whenever I tried to ‘give’ him something. At first, I thought it was just about manners toward an elder, but now…

“Here, take it.”

The boy grabbed my hand, trying to press the ramen snack into it. I instinctively knew I shouldn’t take it. I probably shouldn’t hear about Mister either. The students’ story might just be a rumor, but in this moment, it felt like useful advice.

Still, it was hard to resist the impulse. I want to know about Mister. Who he is, where he is. If possible, I’d like to apologize to him directly…

That’s when it happened.

“What are you spacing out for, you idiot!”

My collar was yanked back, nearly making me tumble. The unclaimed ramen snack fell to the floor with a hollow thud. Straining to look behind me, I saw Mister glaring at the boy, still gripping my collar.

“Ugh, bad timing.”

Giggling like a prankster, the boy bolted out of the convenience store. The man muttered curses under his breath, looking like he wanted to smack the kid, but he didn’t chase after him. When he let go of my collar, I stared at him, dazed.

“Uh, hey.”

“I told you before, don’t do that.”

“Huh? I didn’t do anything.”

“You were about to take it. You think I’m blind? Can’t see what’s happening right in front of me?”

“You never told me not to take stuff from people…”

“Then don’t take anything from now on. Seriously, where do you keep half your brain?”

Mister grumbled as he put the ramen snack back on the shelf, and I took the chance to return the sparkling water and other snacks to their places. The clerk was still nowhere to be seen, and the sudden incident killed my appetite. We quietly left the convenience store and started walking.

The boy was long gone, nowhere in sight. But Mister stayed by my side, not running off.

“Don’t stop anywhere today, just go straight home. You look like you’re about to get into big trouble.”

Snapping out of it, I realized he was holding my hand tightly, walking with a huff. He didn’t seem to think of it as physical contact, but my face felt hot for no reason.

At least he doesn’t seem to mind touching me, right? That’s not bad. Seeing him after almost a month made my nose tingle with joy. Maybe I missed this Mister more than I thought.

By the way, despite the sudden situation, it was pretty good timing. I glanced at him cautiously as we walked, then finally mustered the courage to speak.

“Hey, uh, Mister.”

“What.”

“About last time, when I touched your face without permission… I’m sorry.”

“You know you should be sorry?”

“But you wouldn’t even tell me your name.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Uh, now that I think about it, maybe nothing…? But are you really not gonna tell me your name?”

“Nope. Why would I risk that?”

He answered as if it were absurd. Even I had to admit touching his face and his name were unrelated. I’d hoped to sneak his name out of him, but he clearly wasn’t ready to open up that much.

Well, with all the stalkers these days who pester you once they know your name or workplace, it’s natural he’d be cautious. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I scratched my head, and he let out a deep sigh, as if giving up.

“Don’t people ever call you dumb?”

“I get told I look like I’m missing a screw a lot.”

“You hear that all the time and still haven’t improved… Damn.”

Mister stomped along, his mouth practically a foot wide with frustration. But despite his angry act, his grip on my hand was strong and steady, making me feel oddly calm. He glanced at my face out of the corner of his eye, then muttered disapprovingly.

“Anyway, from now on, if someone talks to you, pretend you can’t hear them. If you act like you really can’t hear, they’ll think you didn’t and back off. Got it?”

“I guess I’ll have to do that. The world’s scary these days, with all sorts of weirdos.”

“Yeah, some real weirdos out there. Trying to give stuff to people, almost getting you suckered by that little roly-poly punk… The way you space out, you’re bound to mess up someday.”

“But you’ll help me out, right, Mister?”

“You think I’m your personal cleanup crew? Annoying jerk.”

We chatted leisurely as we walked down the empty street. It felt almost like a date, and my neck stayed warm the whole way home.