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“Excuse me. Do you mind if I take my break here? I’ll keep quiet.”
At the suddenly near voice, Jisu—drowsy from the cold—lifted her head from her corner table within the café. She hadn’t expected to be spoken to after receiving her order; she’d only squirmed her way through the glass doors because a snowsquall had struck on her way home. On the ceiling-to-floor windows beside her, snow clumped against the glass, packing on tighter by the second.
The same barista who’d made Jisu’s drink now stood over her with that indiscernible gaze that’d pierced her at the moment she’d stepped up to the counter.
“I’m really sorry for asking, but we’re full right now because of the weather, and this is the only free seat,” the girl said. Her tone—so delicate compared to her incisive eyes that it left Jisu confused—could hardly be deemed a normal speaking volume. “If you’re waiting on someone, I completely understand; I can go in the back.”
“No, no! I’m not waiting on anyone. It’s totally fine,” Jisu finally told her, tugging her mini-bag and phone over to grant the girl (Chaeryeong, according to her nametag) some space.
Thanking her softly, Chaeryeong rested a coffee on the ceramic-topped surface, a book in her other hand. This likely was her first chance to stop today. Excluding pre-shift preparations, the café opened at eight a.m., and it verged on eleven right now.
Jisu tried to focus on her phone, going as far as shooting her brother a text to start their weekly venting session over school, but something about the stranger across from her kept stealing her attention.
She seemed familiar.
No, they’d never met: Jisu would’ve remembered her relatively unique name among the many common ones within Seoul’s radius. So why did it feel like this moment had happened before? Countless times for that matter?
Seemingly sensing Jisu’s awkwardness, Chaeryeong looked up from her reading. “Is something wrong? Do you want another drink?” She must’ve worked here for a while: customer service had ingrained itself in her behavior, even when she was technically off the clock.
Always one to speak her mind, Jisu locked her phone, giving up on seeking her sibling’s distraction. “No, not yet. I just…I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
Chaeryeong closed her book despite having only flipped the page once since taking her seat. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so.” Jisu sighed. “Maybe we just crossed paths once, or I’m misplacing your face.” Chaeryeong didn’t reply immediately, and for an instant, Jisu wondered if she’d said too much. This girl was a stranger after all.
“I understand the feeling.” Chaeryeong traded her book for her mug, warming her hands on the surface. “Like déjà vu.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Honestly, if it’s not impolite…” She looked down at her apron. Why did she feel so comfortable talking like this with a girl she didn’t know? “Your sleepiness reminds me of my sister.”
“Oh.” Jisu’s eyes crinkled as she fidgeted with her purse’s zipper. She rubbed her nape sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s freezing cold, and mornings aren’t my thing.”
“They’re not hers either,” Chaeryeong deadpanned. “I beg my mom to work the same shifts, not because I want to but because her thirty alarms will wake me up anyway.” She had been here a while then; the cozy café appeared to be a family business.
“Ah, so she snoozes them? We’re different there.” Jisu laughed. “I just sleep through them.”
Chaeryeong flashed her a weak grimace. “How is that even possible?”
“What can I say? I’m dead weight before ten a.m.”
“Ah, well, once Eonni gets going, she doesn’t stop, so I guess you’re not too similar.”
“Yeah, I don’t have a sister though, so I still don’t know why I feel like I have memories of you.” Jisu couldn’t explain the sensation she was experiencing: some sort of strange, sentimental reminiscence over a friendship she’d never had.
Chaeryeong smirked. “In your dreams maybe?”
“Perhaps. More vain than I remember,” Jisu said. Why were jokes already this easy for them?
Chaeryeong dropped her head in apology, staring into her now empty cup. “I’m not really like that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize…! I was just kidding; you seem super sweet, really.”
“Thank you. You’re really kind too.” Chaeryeong appeared to mean the words: being this girl’s friend sounded…entertaining.
Startling them both, the girl who’d taken Jisu’s order (likely Chaeryeong’s sister based on the uncanny resemblance alone) beckoned her coworker, “Chaeryeongie, come on! Break’s over; we need more hands back here.”
“I’ve still got two minutes…” Chaeryeong muttered, checking her watch, but stood anyway. She gathered her mug and novel. “It was nice talking to you.”
“Really? I was afraid I was interrupting your ‘me time.’” Despite her own straightforward attitude, Jisu had remained nervous at the peculiarity of their entire interaction.
“Well, couldn’t really expect much since I sat at your table.” Chaeryeong glanced at her watch again, not particularly in a rush as she counted her remaining seconds. “I’d give you my number, but I’m not allowed to have my phone on me during work hours.” Then, her features lit up like alarm lights. “I don’t even know your name!”
A grin blossomed across Jisu’s features again. She spun her cup, pointing to where her name had been markered onto its side. “Jisu. I’m twenty-two by the way.” Age was standard for an introduction within their culture.
“Twenty-two, the same age as Eonni…” Chaeryeong mumbled more to herself than her. She blinked back to reality. “I hope you’ll visit again soon, Jisu-ssi.”
“You can use ‘eonni’ if you’d rather. Who knows? You might see me tomorrow.” Jisu stood as well. “But for now, I’m going to get in line for my second drink. This storm doesn’t look like it’s holding up any time soon.”
“Okay.” Chaeryeong dipped her head in farewell as she finally darted behind the counter to her swamped sibling’s relief.
~📖☕~
“About time,” Chaeyeon grumbled, handing off an inscribed cup once Chaeryeong had tossed her disinfecting wipe and tugged on some gloves. “Do you know that girl? I’ve never seen her before.” She grabbed pastries while Chaeryeong started the espresso brew the drink required.
“No, I just met her today,” Chaeryeong said. The toaster’s door Chaeyeon had held slammed harder than necessary, jolting the teen at the front of the line, Chaeryeong, and the culprit herself. “Eonni…!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Chaeyeon spoke more to the appliance than her. She turned to Chaeryeong, relocating her marker as she gestured for the next customer to recite their order. When they finished their request, the cycle refreshed, the designated paper container finding its way to Chaeryeong’s hand. “Really though? You were laughing like old friends.”
“We were talking about you, so that helped,” Chaeryeong quipped, earning her a glare from her elder. She called a customer’s name and order before continuing, “I don’t know how to explain it honestly. We just clicked.”
“Hmm, well, that’s rare. Proud of you for socializing, Chaeryeongie.” Of course, Chaeyeon would get her revenge in.
Chaeryeong whined low enough that only her sister heard her as they passed one another in the small workspace. “You know what I mean though? Feeling like you know someone you’ve never met?”
“Can’t say I know the emotion exactly, but I understand.” Chaeyeon’s words sounded sincere, yet she paused, recognizing Jisu staring at the menu right in front of her. She plastered her service smile. “Back again?”
“Yep, I’m going to need another drink to stay warm.”
“What are you thinking? Same thing? Or something fresh?”
Jisu had gotten a coffee, purely in hopes that it would wake her up. But now, she looked torn between the more indulgent options, likely since the harsh weather seemed to be telling everyone to make themselves comfortable.
“A hot chocolate, please.”
“That’s what I’m talking about~” Chaeyeon concentrated on her handwriting. “Perfect weather for it.”
Chaeryeong’s voice echoed inside the mini-fridge as she sought out an open milk jug. “I wouldn’t call it perfect weather under any circumstances…”
Though her junior could hear her, Chaeyeon whispered to their customer, “Don’t mind her. She’s a scrooge: she hates winter.”
Breaking the seal on a new bottle, Chaeryeong scowled at her. “I heard that.”
“Anyway.” Chaeyeon ignored her. “Anything else you’re looking at or just the hot chocolate?”
Jisu’s eyes flicked back up to the list of options. “What would you recommend?”
Chaeyeon leaned on the counter, entirely unperturbed by the question considering the lack of customers behind her. “Well, if you haven’t eaten anything today, I’d recommend the French toast: it’s filling and comforting. If you’re looking for a little less but something still satisfying, the cheesecake is great too.”
Jisu took Chaeyeon’s advice. “The French toast then.”
“Fantastic. Chaeryeong will finish your drink now, but give us a few minutes on the food.” Chaeyeon inputted the order, and Jisu nodded, returning to her seat after the machine charged her card.
The Lee sisters worked in tandem to fulfill the request. Only when Chaeyeon slipped back behind the counter after presenting Jisu with the warm dish, did she readdress their previous discussion.
“Like I was saying, I can’t say I’ve felt the emotion myself yet, but I believe soulmates exist.”
Chaeryeong hesitated in the wiping of her station. “Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions?” One ten-minute bout of conversation didn’t constitute a spiritual connection.
“Nope. I believe we all have soulmates, Ryeongie. Some romantic and some platonic.” Chaeyeon’s eyes flitted to the door as a few people left: to her pleasure, no one entered. The improving weather would likely change that soon though. “Don’t take it that seriously: I’m not saying you’re going to die for her. I just like the idea that there are people meant for me to different extents. My people.”
“You and your childlike mind, Eonni,” Chaeryeong jabbed, but her sister didn’t tease her back.
Chaeyeon was being entirely serious. Chaeryeong supposed that shouldn’t surprise her. Chaeyeon’s viewpoint when it came to relationships had always fascinated her: honest and genuine yet never naïve, a curious balance that Chaeryeong had yet to strike herself.
Chaeryeong had a tendency to close herself off in self-protection, she knew. That was why she gravitated to people who could take the world for what it was, the good and the bad. Like Chaeyeon did.
Like Jisu seemed to do. Maybe, her free spirit could teach Chaeryeong’s overly analytical mind to relax a bit.
“You know what?” She exhaled, placing her cleaning supplies back out of sight. “I think you have a point, Eonni.”
“I usually do. You just don’t like to hear it,” Chaeyeon joked.
Thirty or so minutes later, Jisu approached the counter, resting her plate on the small section reserved for returning dishes. She waved to them as she slid out the door, insisting they’d see her again soon.
“Maybe you’re right,” Chaeryeong repeated the sentiment, her elbows on the granite beneath her. “Maybe souls have histories.”
“Yeah, and if not…at least, it’s a nice thought.” Chaeyeon shoved off the counter, turning to the girl who Jisu had held the door for. “Hi, what would you like?”
“A green tea latte, please.”
“Hot or cold?”
“I usually go cold, but I’m not sure if that’s the best decision under the circumstances.”
“Not sure if you’re one of those people, huh?”
“Mhm. Let’s go hot today: be a little different, you know? In the largest size, please.”
“A big commitment for a change of pace.” Chaeyeon offered a chuckle with the humor, her marker brushing the correct container. “Can I get a name on that?”
“Sakura.”