That’s when I saw him. I didn’t know who he was, where was he from and where was he going. His face was marked by this short stubby nose and a half crooked smile — there had got to be no charm whatsoever there. He was definitely far from what I considered to be handsome. I mean after all those Korean dramas I watched, I kind of expected my ‘love at first sight’ moment to be a little more grandiose — not that I had anticipated a tall handsome rich guy to fall head over heels for me (not that I would complain) but this was truly a little lacking. And yet here I am feeling some sort of weird attraction.
Koi no yokan. I read it about this morning on an article mom printed out about words that do not exist in the English language; it means a feeling that we will soon fall in love.
Heck, I didn’t even know if he was single, let alone fall in love, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that this is it even despite all my internal complaints.
So there I stood, in my fuchsia coat, awkwardly holding my left arm with my right, in a room of people in black sweaters and navy blue blazers. Dreadful colors.
I must have stared at him for too long because he began to walk towards me. He must have taken some awfully wide strides because he was in front of me within seconds. I supposed the room wasn’t very big to begin with.
“Hi, are you a friend?” he asked. He was a whole head taller than me. This meant he at least fulfills the ‘tall’ category, but I’m puny so technically everyone can satisfy that requirement.
“Yeah, I guess. What would I be if I’m not a friend?” I examined my fingers that poked through my zebra striped arm warmers, and in a fit of panic peeled off some red nail polish — so much for long lasting chip resistant. Now I would have to go home and repaint my nails. Exactly how I envisioned spending my Saturday afternoon.
“So who died?” I asked.
His eyebrows furrowed up and I noticed he had a million freckles all over his stupid little nose.
“I said ‘who died.’”
I felt agitated. I’m too young to surrender the rest of my life talking to the likes of Mrs. Bates, and I certainly had no interest in becoming a bumbling old fool like Ms. Bates.
He glimpsed at my rainbow colored stockings, black platform shoes and aqua and orange hair. There was no way he was approving any of this — I mean, the man was in a black suit and tie which fit him very well by the way — but he also did not have a look of disgust, which simultaneously confused and surprised me.
He parted his lips and said:
“Uh, my father, to be exact.”
I looked up at him. So this was probably not the best time to tell him.