Oh Umma, you should’ve been a shaman, not a Madame Du. Then you’d own a whole building, not just a tiny bit of retail space.

◊

The fourth class in the Philosophy of Emotions was about “the feeling of completely immersing oneself in something.”

Afterwards, he took me out for hwe. He said he’d pay for the fish if I got the alcohol. This was the perfect proposal, as I’d never refused alcohol or raw fish in my life. I sat across from him, determined as ever not to show my feelings for him until I understood how he felt about me. He must’ve been a regular, because a “medium set,” including flounder, rockfish, and spicy fish soup, appeared before us without anyone having to take our order. I added two bottles of soju. Behind him were several fish tanks. They must’ve sold out that evening, because the tanks were empty except for little bubbles from the circulation system. The aquarium tanks were backlighting him, and the effect was somewhat creepy. He wiped his hands with the wet wipes provided and stared off into space. His thick fingers with their snake-like tattoo, his almost hairless wrists, biceps, and triceps, his small earlobes, the curve of his ear, and his firm jawline—my eyes roamed all over his body, until they met his own. I quickly looked away and asked a question I wasn’t even that curious about.

—Why did you take so many philosophy classes?

—I’m very interested in how the world works.

—A laudably broad interest for a “creative.”

Silence. Anxiety had caused me to blurt out whatever came to mind, and I was regretting having come across as rude. But he didn’t seem to care—he looked as though he was considering his next words carefully, poised to reveal some great secret.

—Actually, I’m working on a philosophy book.

—What?

—I’m an editor at a publisher that puts out books on theory. Or I used to be. Now I’m a subcontractor at the same company.

—Uh . . . OK.

He had such an unexpectedly normal job that I was surprised to the point of rudeness. I should’ve known. All the paper inside his backpack, the sewn-on Korean flag, the fine felt-tip pens in red and black, plus the pre-sharpened pencils in the pencil case—these were all items that screamed “editor at a book publisher.” Like most revelations, this one came way too late.

—But really, I’ve always been interested in the universe. It’s curious. Why the world looks the way it does, why there are so many stars in the wide, vast sky, and how pitifully absurd I am, that kind of thing.

—Yes. Human beings are absurd. Pitifully so.

Although not as absurd as his philosophy, apparently. He sighed deeply and added one more thing in a somewhat overly serious tone.

—Thinking about it makes me very lonely.