Love is Like Stepping on a Lego

Saranghe

Three words become three syllables softly muttered between two friends behind the clutter and noise of orchestra. "Sa-rang-he" repeated back a forth amidst giggling while my lips struggle to form around unfamiliar sounds and tones. The young girl next me laughs, mutters something else both strange yet familiar in Korean, before cheekily smiling and calling me an "ajumma" and then laughing at my scowl. I lightly flick her forehead in feigned annoyance, before ordering her, as if I were her so called grandmother, to return to her seat and tune her instrument before we become the next victims of the morning rehearsal.