her silent savior, thatâs what he was to her. never complaining when she asked, never asked for very much in return and was always there when she needed him. clinging to him as if her life was on the line. after that day when he found her, she tailed him like a little duckling following its mother. in a sense it really was as if she had found her mother.
her actual mother was too busy writing a novel to really worry about how her daughters were coping with the move to a new city. she had felt lost for the first couple of months she was there, had been left to her vices and found herself wandering the city trying to find a place that she felt like she actually belonged, yet she was always home before dark. on the day he found her, she had wandered a bit too far, followed too many bright lights and new wonders until the point where she had forgotten which direction âhomeâ was and sat down on a park bench, wondering if her mother would find her. was she even really looking?
in the end it was him who found her instead, âhi oppaâ she had said simply, the disappointment hidden behind the simple words as she took his hand. she hadnât let go ever since.
âmmm⌠yes, sounds very disbelieving indeed,â she mumbles softly at his complaint, feeling as if letting him complain to her every once in awhile was the least she could do after all heâd done for her over the years, âiâm more surprised that you actually agreed to the job in the first place.â
she chuckles softly at his next comment, âno, not at all. i feel like a child again, lost and wandering around aimlessly,â she admits, as her eyes sweep over the store once again, âexcept this time i know oppaâs coming to get me, right?â
âokay, iâll wait for you by the wood, see you soon.â
âhi oppa,â she responds without looking at him, nudging him back gently with her elbow in greeting. simple words that always portrayed more than she would ever let on. gratitude, admiration, adoration, just to name a few things, none of the things she would ever actually voice to the boy standing next to her now.
she pulls up the images and directions on her phone to show him, scrolling through the different screenshots that she had taken of the description of the video.
âsee, iâm trying to make this bed frame here⌠but i have no idea where to startâŚâ
Stumped. This sort of task was not his forte. Perhaps he could be called crafty with all the inspiration he takes in his work, however this was beyond a DIY craft. It was carpentry. The extent of his experience would be when he mounted shelves in the studio over a year ago. A solid job but did she remember? Did she call him because she actually believed he'd be any good at this sort of thing? As his mind cycled through these thoughts, he landed on a notion of flattery. Of course, he was being modest.
â I donât blame you, â  his words were only mumbled past his lips, trying to get an idea from the photos displayed on screen. As always, the doubt rooted deep within his mind surfaced. â Have you ever done anything like this before? Maybe you should start with something smaller.. â
After confiscating her phone and scrolling through the instructions, a sliver of confidence rose in him. Perhaps it wouldn't be that difficult, he was an educated man, he could figure it out; and it was what Hwamin wanted, afterall. Then he slowly looked up toward the towering aisles of walnut, oak, pine, aspen, all different sizes and with small-print labels tiring to read. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and began to sweat. â Did you know what colors, what kind of wood you wanted to do? Thatâd be a good place to start. Maybe stay away from black walnut. Allelopathic species and all. â
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