Meet cute... or nah?

September 3, 2015

Dear Dad,

How are you? I know it's pretty useless to ask that. I can only imagine how horrible it must be where you are. I am so sorry for not writing you these past couple of weeks.

Anyway, I just want you to know; Mom is officially insane. Ever since I agreed to move in with her and the "love of her life" (a.k.a. the completely clueless rich guy named Arnold Moon), all aspects of our life suddenly turned Korean. All she ever talks about is that huge house, where there's Korean food every day, that you have to eat with Korean utensils, on a Korean-made table. A house with Korean ornaments and paintings all around, even in the damn toilet. She's now using their weird skin products, wearing their outfits, and she's even learning the language from an online school. I swear, the only thing left is for us to move to Korea, and it scares the hell out of me. What if it's the one with the dictator? Which is it again? North or South? I can never remember.

Whatever it is, if I ever start loving anything that comes from that place, consider me crazier than Mom. And in case you're wondering, I am not racist towards Koreans. I get discriminated against for being different than 90% of the population here too. It's just the principle of the thing. If Arnold were a white guy related to the British Queen, I would also hate Europe. I guess I can't accept the fact that she's happy while we're both so miserable.

I miss you, Dad. If this letter ever makes it to you, please let me visit.

Love, Dina

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September 10, 2015

Dear Koko,

How are you, my dear grandmother? Guess what! I am visiting you soon. I told Mom and her new husband Arnold that I needed a break from school, and they thought it'd be a great idea. Dad has given his consent too. I know it sounds too good to be true. But they did!

Since Dad told me you love them, I am bringing you lots and lots of chocolates from here. You don't have diabetes, right? You also don't have dentures? I'll bring some dark chocolates and chocolates without nuts too, just in case.

Please send my regards to everyone. If there's anything they want me to bring for them, please ask them for me.

I miss you, Grandma. I can't wait to visit!

Love, Dina Marie

-LETTERS END HERE-

I can't believe what I'm seeing right now. There's a couple on the street sharing a passionate kiss under the pouring rain. I look around, considering the possibility that there's a film crew somewhere. It's so movie-like I can almost hear the soundtrack to it. To be followed by a roll of the credits as the couple's picture pans out, of course. Happily ever after, which is the biggest lie ever told. I bet they get separated after a year. You never really know what comes out of relationships these days.

Oh, wow. I cringe as the make-out session gets intense. Looking for a distraction that doesn't make me want to gag, I head towards the 7/11 near me. The road is getting slippery from the weather, so I struggle to keep my balance. I squirm inside my wet clothes, which now cling to me like a second skin. Needless to say, I am a mess and deeply uncomfortable, but I trudge on. I have work to do, after all.

I hear footsteps behind me, and I slow down a bit, looking up as the person passes by me. He's Asian. With a beautiful face, flawless skin, and an outfit that can probably buy an entire country. He looks exactly like the type of person who has had it easy his whole life. I already hate him. He doesn't even bat an eye as he notices me staring at him, which means he's probably used to it too. He does give me a nod and opens the door for me, though, much to my surprise.

Inside the store, a bored-looking cashier is inspecting a hangnail. She straightens as she catches sight of the guy. I try not to roll my eyes. Of course, she'd be interested in him. Mr. Cool (this is what we're calling the guy now) just nods at her non-committally, heading straight into the freezer. I follow him, amused at his reaction. Most guys usually just go for it—especially if the girl's attractive.

"There's a bar across the street, and you're picking drinks at the 7/11?" I say, slowly approaching Mr. Cool. His head is bent, deep in contemplation about his drink choices. For a second, I think I hear him let out an annoyed sigh, and my eyebrows cock-up. Wow, this stranger is the coldest of them all.

"I don't drink. I'm still a minor," he replies after a while, not even turning his attention away from the freezer. Rude. Now he's just pissing me off.

Come to think of it; I'm not the kind to strike a conversation with a stranger in the middle of the night. I know full well how dangerous this area is after dark. I guess it figures that the one time I try to entertain my friendlier side, I do it in front of Mr. Cool right here.

I narrow my eyes at him as he chooses his drink. He must have noticed me staring daggers at him, but he continues to pretend like he's the only person in the room. Picking up a set of chips on one of the shelves, Mr. Cool pats the back pocket of his jeans. Just then, I know exactly what to do.

"Oookay..." I drawl, responding to his earlier statement. That's when he finally turns his attention to me, eyebrows pulled back. But before he can say anything, l snatch up the wallet from his back pocket.

"Hey!'' he shouts at me as I swiftly exit the store, splashing my way across the street. My feet don't hesitate because I know exactly where to step now. I don't pause to look back, maneuvering the puddles in front of me expertly. I hear Mr. Cool's footsteps behind me, along with his loud cursing. I snicker. Good luck to him. I've never been caught in a chase before. I thank him in my head, though. If I'm right about him being loaded, this wallet will have the money I need to get out of here.