8:10 a.m. — Haneul Alley Bus Stop 🔍

At 8:10 a.m. at the bus stop by Haneul Alley, I stood beneath a faded plastic awning while sunlight flashed on the wet pavement left by a shopkeeper’s hose. I wore a cotton T-shirt under a loose checked shirt, and the few folded bills in my wallet made me think twice before buying a cold canned drink. People nearby spoke quietly about reduced hours and finding part-time work, the same anxious talk that seems to follow everyone these days. When my pager vibrated, I recognized my classmate’s number and crossed to the payphone, feeding in coins to arrange an afternoon meeting.

6:20 p.m. — Mirae Station Record Shop 🔍

At 6:20 p.m. inside the narrow record shop beside Mirae Station, my classmate and I shared the cool air from a humming ceiling unit while rows of cassette tapes gleamed behind scratched plastic. We had spent the afternoon checking handwritten notices for vacation jobs, but most offered long shifts for little pay, so we agreed to try the stationery warehouse together tomorrow. I used nearly all my spare change on a blank cassette, then watched the clerk slide it into a thin plastic bag. Outside, buses sighed at the curb and the sky turned peach between concrete buildings, and I felt less lost knowing I would not go alone.