I lean into the bus seat and close my eyes. The bus starts with a rattle. An announcement declares that it takes two hours and fifty minutes to get to Sanchung via Jinju. A soldier who looks younger than I do sits across the aisle from me. He takes his boots off and eats some gimbap rolls. The intense odor of his feet, his food, and the mildewy mopwater from the floor wafts up, making me nauseous. The driver blasts the heater and I’m suddenly claustrophobic. On top of that, the conversation between the couple behind me is unbearable. The man insists that now that an average Joe like Roh Tae-woo has become the president, the world is gonna get better. He calls the previous presidents, Kim Yongsam and Kim Dae-jung, country-ruining bastards. His wife throws around words like gukwisunyang (nationalist pride) and gold medals, excitedly speaking of the ’88 Olympics that will open in September. She speaks as though Roh Tae-woo single-handedly made the Olympics take place here this year. Don’t they know Roh Tae-woo is not really that far off from the mass murderer, Chun Doo-hwan? I keep my eyes shut tight. I wish my ears had covers that opened and shut on command like my eyelids.

“Yeoul, are you asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Very funny. Don’t be like that. Listen to this song.” Sol places her headphones over my ears. Kim Hyun-shik’s song is playing from her CD player. “Isn’t that nice?”

“Not really.”

“He went to jail for smoking pot. The Wildflowers’ Jeon Inguon and Huh Seongook were also arrested. There was a concert at the 63 Tower when they all got out ten days ago.”

“Oh yeah? Did you have fun squealing like a stupid fangirl?”

“Well. I’m just trying to say … everybody goes through shit. People bounce back from it.”

Sol seems to realize how empty and ill-fitting her words sound, and trails off. I feel like a lump of metal is hanging down my throat and sinking into my chest, lower and lower. I turn my attention to the song.

If I turn around and close my eyes, will I be able to forget? My beloved, what shall I do as you depart? I keep tripping over our memories of love. O these tears in both sets of eyes. I loved you. I didn’t know then, but I loved you with my whole heart. Now I know. What love is, how much my heart hurts …

Now I know? Whatever. The heartfelt lyrics and husky voice don’t resonate with me, it all sounds like noise.

I turn to Sol, “You and Jimin were in the same club, right?”

“I wasn’t in the Blue Stockings, but I was a student representative with her in the Feminist Reading Group.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Well, that happened not long after we started … why do you think she committed suicide?” Sol cautiously asks.