Anya:

  “Miss Harris? You waking up yet?”

  In my sleep befuddled state, I’m dimly aware of a voice calling me. I really hope it’s Mrs. Kim and not just some strange half-waking dream.

  I blink my eyes in an effort to wake up fully and make sure I’m hearing the real Mrs. Kim or dreaming her.

  “I make breakfast. Miss Harris?” comes in her voice again.

  “Yup. I’ll be right out. And, please, call me Anya,” I mumble through the blankets.

  I’m still groggy from last night’s deep sleep. The kind of sleep I haven’t experienced without pills in a while. I turn over to reach my phone on the nightstand to check the time. It’s only 7am on a Sunday. That woman’s up early. Too early. My classes don’t even start until tomorrow and she already has me on a schedule.

  I rub the sleep from my eyes before dragging myself out of bed. I’d normally get in my morning run before breakfast, but this morning, I’ll be needing a quick cold shower first. I need to wash away last night’s… whatever that was.

  I turn the light on in the bathroom and my eyes first fall on the walk-in shower space. It’s huge and brightly lit up by the transom windows in the upper tiled walls and skylights that split the lofty ceiling way above. The tile work reaches all the way to the roof and the colour choice, plus the fully glassed 360° shower in the very middle of the room makes me feel like I’m inside a natural waterfall. I’ve never come across this design style before but it’s delightful, especially because it captures so much natural light. As I run the water through the rainfall fixture and the room starts to steam up, I know I’m far away from home. This bathroom, no, the whole house, is like nothing I’ve experienced before.

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  After getting ready for my run, I make my way to the open-plan kitchen for breakfast. The aroma of whatever food Mrs. Kim has been cooking smells delicious. My stomach rumble in anticipation.

  Turning the corner from the hallway, I hear Mrs. Kim on the phone. As she’s speaking Korean I can’t work out what she’s saying but she’s very animated. I can vaguely hear the caller on the other end of the phone speaking in a calmer male voice and it’s clear she’s happy to hear from him. She also keeps looking my way with bright eyes so I have a feeling she may be talking to him about me. If she is, I hope it’s good things.

  I can’t wait to be able to eventually understand her or anyone around these parts. For now, I intend to enjoy what seems to be a traditional Korean breakfast spread. How this culture has time to make all these side dishes is beyond me but I’m definitely here for it.

  I bite into some sour kimchi before using the chopsticks—really badly—to pick up some rice. I’ve never mastered using them despite my parents using little else when I was little. The different side dishes infuse in my mouth and I melt at their comforting flavours. It’s been a long time since I’ve had delicious homemade Korean food and it doesn’t disappoint. I’d be tempted to clear every single bowl if I didn’t have to exercise, but keeping to my routine is super important to me.

  Mrs. Kim is still talking loudly as she continues to keep an eye on me smiling all the while. I don’t want to invade her privacy, so I rush through the next few chopsticks full of plain rice to be polite before getting off the central kitchen island and rushing towards the entryway. I give her a quick wave and head out the door.

  ?Sky Mincharo