Dream Me a Sonatine

2 - La Mort d'Annie Levett

Jeon Heejin relished the cold streaks of wind soaring across her arms, stood-up hairs and bumps peppered over her skin. It pinched with uncomfortable stabs, and that was exactly what she held onto, tightly with an invisible fist. Before, she hadn't felt any pain. Before, she couldn't quite remember if she'd even felt anything.

She was surrounded by designer shopping bags and velvet coats and a sky rolling with greyish clouds. People bustled by, humming tunelessly as they accidentally knocked into her side. The split second before they realised always sent panicked blood rushing to her head before she heard the insincere, hurried mutter of 'sorry', and relief spread from her heart to her fingertips. I am knowable.

Of course, being in Paris meant that instead of saying 'sorry', they'd say 'pardon', which didn't affect Heejin as she'd lived there for as long as she could remember, despite Jiwoo's insistent protests of: 'Hey, you look really Korean. Your name's Korean. Are you sure you're not Korean?' Heejin wasn't Korean. Unless she was. Nobody knew.

She checked her watch, a nervous habit and a test of the fragile reliability of her watch. Unless she was mistaken, her watch was five minutes ahead (again) and she was ten minutes early (again). The confectionary was just around the next corner, past the pet shop and the newspaper agent. Sunlight collapsed onto the pavement through the leaves, and it looked like she was walking on golden freckles. The freckles lead her to the sickeningly pastel-coloured door, and she pushed it open.

'Macaron!'

Macaron was not Heejin's name, so instead of responding, she stood still confusedly. That turned out to be a mistake as several macarons were flung at her, landing on her face in a mess of crumbs and cream.

'Thanks, Jiwoo,' said Heejin. She wiped her face while Jiwoo turned around to the counter and got her another macaron, this time pointedly handing it to her. Heejin reached inside her pocket for her wallet.

'No, no. This macaron is free of charge,' said Jiwoo. 'Business is booming. Plus, Chaewon told me your boss has been being stingy recently.' She added brightly, 'Shithead.'

Heejin nodded, her features composed as she took a bite of the macaron. 'Yeah, apparently we're losing our touch.' As if. 'Looks like you're doing well then.'

Jiwoo repeated, 'Business is booming. The macarons are sadly not booming, hence why I threw them at you. I need your opinion.'

'They're chewy. Flavour's good though.'

'Great. I'll make a note of that. Gotta impress the regulars.'

From the reddish tinge creeping up Jiwoo's face, Heejin wondered if there was a particular regular she wanted to impress. Flicking the last crumb off her face, she took a seat in one of the flowery purple chairs, feeling slightly out of place with her leather jacket and black jeans.

'Emo,' said Jiwoo.

'I'm a mercenary. I have to wear black or I draw too much attention to myself,' said Heejin flatly.

Jiwoo laughed and sat down opposite her. 'Ahh, this joke again. Is that why your boss is angry? Did you let your innocent victim go?'

'Mmm. Can I get a drink while we wait for Chaewon?'

A minute later, the confectionary café was filled with the whirring sound of a milkshake machine, and Chaewon burst through the door, clouds of wavy blonde hair whipping round and round like candyfloss. Her full cheeks were flushed rosy and a wild smile lit up her eyes, excited and breathless.

'You guys will not BELIEVE who I just met!' she yelled, grabbing Heejin's drink from Jiwoo's hands and gulping at the frothy, pink milk. It took her a few seconds to recover. 'Seunghee. Hyun Seunghee herself. In PARIS! HERE IN PARIS! S-she let me take a photo with her, look I'll prove it—'