Chapter Text
The window is generally a hole to look through into the outside world, yet in most literature you will find it to be written quite the opposite. You will find eyes to be window to one’s soul, to their intentions; some of these windows reflect the subject and some others are display cases, decorated and styled for an imaginary audience; you will find peeping toms on the other side of the wall mostly, peeking into a house of cards; in movies, windows are an alternative to your reality, to peek into what could’ve been.
The window that concerns us today is of an air bnb. It’s the only one of its kind on this floor, with wood old and engraved with letters and a heart, ‘we loved and we were here’. On the other side of it, a magnificent tree stood tall, easily at an arm’s length with her beautiful pear blossoms. They bloomed every February, shedding cloudy white with their red eye in the center up until mid-June.
When it comes October and she sheds her leaves, standing nude in the chill of autumn and letting the wind bathe her in news of faraway lands. There are a lot of tourists here even in this season, they walk below her at leisure pace, others running about from one location to the next. She tells me she doesn’t like them much either, specially not when they seek her hospitality past midnight only to puke all over the place.
In front of her is a private library, an odd attraction amongst the many cafes and clubs and bookstores. (I wrote blood store accidentally and consider cannibalism for a moment) the library gets many visitors, mostly for show. The road that separates them is not too wide, but it’s wide enough for the librarian’s sister to perform every now and again, tango with any and all strangers, salsa reserved for few.
Closing the window onto the world outside, you may find the view isn’t nearly as interesting in comparision; the walls are peach, the bedsheets silky and white and the rug underneath was soft enough to lay in. for hygiene purposes, our current occupant did not, though no one should know if she falls off her bed and elongates her faint spells on purpose, just a secret between you and me, right?
The room has minimal furniture, minimal colour, a kitchen attached and only one occupant, a lone traveller with many trinkets to show for all of her journeys abroad. This airbnb is in India, a small town somewhere in the northeast, she couldn’t remember the name anymore.
She’d been travelling for days to find this place, nameless on a map and so popular for the beautiful blend of culture its tourist settlers brought. But over that, she was most curious about two things: the people and their books.
Don’t get her wrong now, she appreciates the jazz and loves the early risers who do yoga on sidewalks, dancing every night on the town square is a must have and the noodles downtown is probably the best she’s ever had, its owner the meanest with her weekend special, but the scent of books bringing one home to open it up and be able to savour it til she's reached the end of it.
Delicious.
By itself, indeed it was, but to share that delight with someone, have company and discussions and a change of perspective was a bliss she couldn't miss out on even in her death bed.
So that’s what had brought her downstairs today, at the pub with large windows that looked onto the April street littered with pear blossoms. 0615pm, she checked her watch then saw the sun still high in the sky, it reminded her of home where she had dinner at 8 with the sun in her eyes, leaving for a second round of catch-catch as a kid, for the first round of soju as an adult, completely out of it by the night more from exhaustion and less from the drinks.
Either way, there was still some time until the dancer would arrive, her drink was too bitter and so, so rough against her throat so she did the next best thing she could think of.
Stepping out, our traveller shivered slightly, dressed more to impress and less for the weather, although it did get chilly at this time of the day. Her dress was flowy in the wind and bothered her as she walked, she hadn't brought a purse today, finding sufficiency in just her phone and a simple hair updo.
Inside, the library was quite warm. The door swung open easily when she pushed and closed by itself when she strolled past the threshold. There were several shelves lined with books of all kinds and ages, such as a collection of selected novels she picked, published in 1800s, the sight of Nepoleon in a romance novel caught her off guard. She snapped a picture of it before moving onto the next work, which happened to be in another language; she flipped through it cover to cover, upside down and backside forward and found no clue to its subject. Deeper inside, there were several essay collections - science, poetry, critical and constructive. She liked the simple nature of these essays, the language flowed smoothly and they were poetic at times, like the one about Senn moths, or the one about the economic correlation between poverty and progress.
Half an hour in, she is yet to find one she dislikes.
She felt a presence before she noticed the footsteps approaching and stayed glued in place to be found by a man of tall stature, hair messily combed back and tied into a manbun. He's wearing a checkered shirt over a tee and pants, his boots indistinguishable from the floor in colour. He looks ethereal, but most of all, he looks Korean.
They stare at each other for a few moments, each confused where to start the conversation, how to start a conversation, or if it was necessary to start one at all.
"The library is closed for guests past 6." The man spoke suddenly, his voice, she finds, is a soft honeycomb, vanilla scented. Fluffy and easy on ears. His accent is perfect likely from the repeated conversations with the visitors. When said man shifted on his feet, clearing his throat to fill the silence, she took a deep breath of embarrassment.
"Sorry, i didn't know." she replied in swift English too, her accent a little more mixed than his. "the door was open and there was no sign."
"It's ok, it's no issue if you check out the books, you just can't borrow any right now." he dropped English midway and spoke in standard Korean, gave her a small smile and returned to the massive shelves. She looked at him over her nose and found him arranging the books meticulously, clicking his tongue now and again when he finds weird notes tucked between the book or slipped among the pages. She realized soon that he clicked his tongue at anything he finds foul.
"Would you like some help with your essays?" she blushed under his questioning gaze and quickly shook her head no, cursing the alcohol that made her over analyze anything of her interest.
Girl you have a tolerance of 4 bottles, who are you fooling? i whisper into her ear, a secret she's yet too shy to admit at 35 before she swats at my disappearing figure behind her.
To rid herself of my commentary, she leans into her hip and read the book she picked earlier, listening to the light chatter the man's presence brought, the little noise that spilled past the door every now and then and the overall warm essence of the library that brought her deep focus.
Before she knew it, she was flipping onto the other side of the cover and there were several children snooping around the shelves when she looked up, each signed at her to keep quiet about their presence. They scattered like grains of rice as boots approaching her section became louder and louder and the man of the day presented himself from the other corner of the aisle, this time without his checkered shirt.
She stood to her full height and her knees clicked, is she that old already?, self-conscious about two things now. The man chuckled more at the face she made than her clicking knees as he came closer. "How'd you like your book?"
The question made our traveller stop and consider for a moment, cooling out her embarrassment to tell him it's a good one, that the essayist clearly did a great job finding all those niche sources and that she'd like to read it again if she finds it again. She raised her brows at the small giggle that came from the other side of the shelf, they found the source to be a little girl in red as revealed by removing just one book above where she crawled on the floor.
"Do they stop by often?" she asked, gesturing with her eyes.
"Yeah, i invite them in for some evening reading." he looked endeared at the little sprints that sounded from a different section of the building. "They're a sweet bunch."
"You must really like kids."
"Generally, no. But they make a valid exception."
They both laughed as they approached the door, catching some older kids reading through romance and adult magazines. They too dropped their books inefficiently into the shelves and scurried away.
"What brings you here?" the man asked, still distracted.
"Just, you know, i'd heard things so i decided to check it out myself." she looked at her hands to avoid his gaze, knowing full well what this town was 2nd most popular for but instead came to realize the book she was still fidgeting with. "Oh, so sorry i accidentally brought it along, i'll go put it back real quick."
"No, it's fine, just leave it with me. I'll return to that section in a bit anyway." He took the book with elegance, long fingers closing around its spine like a hand into a glove - tailored to fit. "Oh but the things you've heard, I'm pretty sure they're about my cousins."
Our traveller gawked at the revelation and made the beautiful man laugh once more. "You're joking!"
"I'm not! They'll probably come in about-" he checked his wristwatch and declared, "they're already here. Come, I'll introduce you guys. You can dance, right?"
"Yeah, i know my share."
The man was shining in excitement like sun against the pale blue sky, quickly dropping off his work on his desk and jogging out of the door wide a wide smile as our traveller followed suit, taking her turn to chuckle. Turn out, men can be cute too.
They chatted along the sidewalk, the soft chill of autumn evening a stark contrast to the warm haven of library. The man's name is Kim Jiwoong and he had worked in the library for at least half a decade, he can't remember clearly anymore he says; he has an older sister who also works at the library, however, she prefers the ambience of a pub more than that of the library so it's hard to find her once the clock hits 6.
She tells him about her trips in return, her interest in books that she got from her mom and craze for travelling that found her on her first school trip. She listens for the most part, trying to match his pace, fast approaching and eager to introduce his cousins, "or find you company for the night." He winked and she slapped his shoulder at his boldness.
He left her handing when she asked their age, smirking to himself. She should've known then that this is a disaster baking.