Morning glory//raining story

The smoking section of Tom Tom’s coffee shop is full. The boys hold up plastic black mirrors and fix their make up; bangs adjust. Glass windows glide open, cars roar by. Raindrops spill down on empty sidewalks.

The eight a.m. rush runs through the counter cash. Coasters beep busy, whipped cream pastries. A bus ticket sits, ripped at the entry edge. 15:30 Cheonan, one-way.