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Personal tastes, Gunil thinks. The words are bitter. He should have no personal tastes that involve Jooyeon; perhaps, then, Jooyeon involved himself first, Gunil thinks satisfactorily for a second. He walked through the door and sat himself down on the floor and he looks so much like her that it’s astonishing, and when Gunil looks out of the corner of his eyes sometimes he thinks that he can see her; in the curve of his nose, the defined shape of Jooyeon’s jaw, the slow drag of his own fingertips against the center of his mouth.
It's not Jooyeon's fault that he looks so much like Gunil's late wife, after all.