윤

I was seated at the bar of an open food court-like restaurant, pre- or post-pandemic, and still very drowsy, rested my head on the counter. and overheard the Korean proprietress telling her co-worker about my indiscretion. Imagining it from her perspective, I couldn’t help but agree that a dirty mop head like mine against the plexiglass was hardly a sight conducive to a smart dining establishment like theirs. She brought a bowl of what appeared to be 짜장 sauce with meatballs to a lady patron and a separate one with 라면, and I knew what to order. It was then I realized that I had left my wallet on the table where I lied, but to my back; it came as quite a surprise, therefore, that no one had taken it or the crumpled-up bills strewn about while I was asleep. My mother appeared with a young lady and told me she had to make it to a movie at 11pm, so we got into her large white BMW and raced through the parking garage. The speed at which we deftly spun down the circular single lane without worry made me assume that some clever German engineering was at work. We navigated the unmarked stairwells and reached a lobby, where I grabbed an elevator and motioned them inside, but it seems that was where we were parting ways: Mom was off to the theater alone, and her attractive short-haired companion was leaving, bags packed for a long trip. I looked away as they noisily kissed as friends might.

Tagged cars, family, food, repressed homosexuality