Bildungsroman

Silence

Silence was her companion. It stalked her as she scurried against the night's chill to the 24-hour cafe she frequented. The apartment had unexpectedly become too stifling and her stomach was howling from hunger. A glance at her watch revealed it to be nearly 1 AM.

She had always been a quiet person. This was present in the secrecy of her footsteps, each one placed tenderly in front of her, careful not to stir a sound. Her gait was one of precise practice, learned after numerous years spent in coup de pied to the adagio of classical music.

Though she was quiet, her social skills were in no way lacking. She knew how to converse appropriately, a talent acquired from encountering the varying inhabitants of New York. This expertise did not flee her, even when living in an alien country.

Both of her parents had emigrated from South Korea many years prior with hopes of obtaining some form of the American dream. And that they did; they each were property lawyers and owned two homes, one in the U.S., and one here, where she was staying. Her blood was of Korean descent, but her ethnicity was of backyard barbecues and little league baseball games- of America. Prior to her arrival in Seoul, the only Korea she knew of was one represented in the dramas her mother watched.

Nevertheless, she had integrated well enough. Her Korean, elementary at the start of her stay, had improved drastically. Now, she could discuss politics with her elderly neighbor. The food was similar to that which her father cooked at home, so she didn't feel homesick.

Arriving at the cafe, she peeled her face mask off before sauntering inside. Here, she was met with the relaxed decor of the mom-and-pop shop she had grown accustomed to. The floor was fitted with a collection of mismatched carpets. A rug lined with polka dots rested on her right while one with the image of a puppy laid on her left. Family photos lined the ivory walls, yellowed with age. There were only four wooden tables, their tops lined with the crisscross of past plates placed. Each was capable of seating two, one of which hosted a student frantically flipping pages in distress. She had been coming here long enough to know that the student was not a regular. Other than that, the place was barren.

She made her way to the register, greeting the part-timer the owners had hired for the night shift with a smile. "One coffee and a sandwich special please," she spoke in Korean, making sure to say coffee and sandwich in the same manner as any native. The worker returned her smile, as he nodded yes at her words, holding out a hand to receive the payment.

It was the little things that gave her foreign status away. Like now, as she handed over the money she forgot to place her other hand gently under her elbow. Noticing this, she quickly corrected herself, and she, along with the cashier, smiled.

Muttering a quick thank you, she received her food from the worker before starting towards her table, the one situated in the back corner, nestled between the windows and the wall. She placed her items down and unpacked her laptop and headphones before seating herself in the chair closest to the window. With a satisfied sigh, she ate her meal while simultaneously editing her music arrangement.

Silence ensued. The three people in the cafe were now back to existing in their separate worlds.