YeoreumThe windows across the river catch the orange light one by one. The bicycle wheels come to a stop, making a soft metallic sound.
Yeoreum hangs her helmet on her bag and tucks her turquoise hair behind her ear.
I'm stopped for a moment. To be exact, the address disappeared before I got there.
She puts the envelope into her bag and closes the lid of her water bottle. The empty bench next to her is bright in the sunset.
Do you happen to know of an old laundromat around here? Or should we start by talking about the best route today?