stardust
His hand gestures drew me in; they softly played with the words he had just said. He seemed to considerately choose and pronounce his words. They really were his words. It struck me at that moment that he was speaking like a poet. I didn’t quite get what he was saying; it didn’t matter. This person, in that moment, created a cosmic shortcut. Or, this was when I started romanticizing him, made him part of my story.
It was dark outside; Seoul’s lights were passing by behind him. I didn’t know the city well back then. We were in the taxi together; he was taking me home after we first met for dinner.