1. Float (4) Swimming coach

We had an unspoken belief that we could give anything to each other. The same was true for our emotional space. I hadn't filled my heart solely with my own struggles so that it could also accommodate his whenever needed. Thanks to this, we could save each other before being completely consumed by misfortune.

Normally, I would have closed the window and slept with the air conditioner on, but that night, feeling reassured that Sun-woo was there, I left the window wide open. It was the first time I realized how vast the night sky looked from that bed. The air, hot during the day, had cooled down and flowed refreshingly into the room. Just as I was about to fall asleep, Sun-woo pulled a blanket over my shoulder and said,

"When I was at the dorm in Gangwon-do, I often longed for home. Despite longing for it so much... I realized I didn't know where 'home' actually was. The apartment in Seoul didn't feel like mine, and it seemed like there was no place for me at our family house in Yeongin-dong... I couldn't figure out what 'home' meant to me. Eventually, I even forgot what I was missing. So, I traced back to where I had lived, all the way back, and that's where it led me."

"Where?"

"To a cardboard box."

I imagined a sand-colored cardboard box, abandoned in a misty, barren field. Inside it, a baby with its birth hair still wet from the amniotic fluid, crying desperately.

Sun-woo said he thought he might be suffering from depression. Depression. That short word couldn't explain the baby's peril, nor offer any solace. Nothing changed. That night was enough, existing precisely in that moment.

A few days later, Sun-woo told me his father had been murdered. The news and internet were filled with stories about an ungrateful adoptee. Sadly, none contained the real truth. Even his stepmother and brother didn't fully defend him.

Sun-woo came to my house after being interrogated by the police for four days. He sat at the dining table with a voice that wouldn't emerge, a head that wouldn't lift, and a body curled up as if about to collapse.

"I don't know what I did wrong. Everywhere I go, people recognize my face. I can't believe my father's gone, and people are calling me a murderer..."

It was the first time I saw Sun-woo cry.

"People went to our house, even to my old company. Someone even chased down my university classmates to ask about me. Now, I feel like there's nothing I can do."

I should have said that once the truth was revealed, his innocence would be cleared, and everyone would feel sorry for him. I believe in you. You mustn't fall apart. That was my true sentiment. I was the last person who believed in Sun-woo. But I said something I shouldn't have.

"You didn't do it, right? You're not...?"

Sun-woo stared blankly at me for a while, then shook his head. Why did I say something that sounded like doubt? I regretted it immediately but couldn't take it back.

I hugged Sun-woo in the alley in front of the house and patted his back for a long time. I think I said, "Hang in there, Sun-woo," but I can't remember if the words actually came out. Sun-woo whispered "Goodbye" loud enough for me to hear.

About three days later, a package from Sun-woo arrived. Inside the tightly wrapped bubble wrap was 'it', and on top was a lemon-colored post-it.

I'll call you. Please come to see me.

I had thought he wouldn't take long to call me. That 'it' would be in my care only for a while.

*

What woke me up again? Why must I endure these hallucinations, like fragments that have lost their function, unable to do anything? I have loved much, longed for, and cherished, so why can't these emotions heal me?

All that remains are the regretful words I've said to someone, or the ones I wish someone would regret saying to me, things I haven't yet returned after borrowing, moments when I was exposed as a broken person. I've tried to discard these things, but they embrace me and refuse to let go.

My phone vibrated, causing me to turn unwittingly. I lost my balance, my feet not touching the ground. It had happened several times before, but the fear was always unfamiliar. Struggling in my heavy, waterlogged clothes, I grew weaker. I tried to breathe, but my face wouldn't surface above the water.

I inhaled under the water. The water flooded into my lungs. As I choked and lost all strength, someone knocked on the front door. Four short knocks, then four urgent ones.

That sound saved me. I coughed violently, expelling all the water inside me, and came back to my senses. Looking around, the bloodied water that had engulfed me was gone, and the floor was dry. I managed to refocus my blurry vision, took several deep breaths, and stood up.

"Who is it?"

I asked the person who saved me as I walked to the front door.

"It's Ido-hyeon."

The swimming coach. I opened the door.

"Coach, how did you get here?"

He stood outside, surveying me and peering into my house.

"I was worried because you didn't show up for the lesson and weren't answering your phone..."

Only then did I realize I had missed the 2 PM swimming lesson. It was already Thursday.

"I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Is everything okay? Your face is covered in sweat..." Before Do-hyeon could touch me, I quickly wiped my face with my sleeve.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

I said with a forced smile. It might have looked awkward to him.

"Alright then. Make sure you come to the next lesson. We're going to practice freestyle catch and push, and start learning flip turns."

"Yes, I will. It's cold, why don't you come in for a bit?"

"No, I should go. Now that I've seen you, I'll leave. See you the day after tomorrow."

Do-hyeon bowed slightly in front of his SUV and left the way he came. The distance from the sports center to my house was short, and even though I was his only student, it was a risk to step out just to check on someone these days. Some people made such difficult tasks seem so simple.

I decided to visit Sun-woo. Before he called me, I felt I needed to ask how he was doing. He might resent me for only coming after the real culprit was caught, even if it meant exposing my frail inner self, but if that was my burden, I had to accept it.

Where should I go now? Where can I meet him? Sun-woo had changed his number and disappeared like a stranger. Maybe his family knew. Crossing the small bridge over the Namyeongang River to the east of Yeongin-dong, I could reach the villa where I lived, and where Sun-woo's family used to live.