Dear Kyeonghwa,

How did you sleep? It's already summer. I want your summer to be brimming with goodness.

I used to have the ability to fall asleep immediately on any surface I could lay my head on, whether on the bus or on a concrete floor. I'd brag about this to you sometimes too. You'd often reply with, “You must have been so tired…” Lately, I haven't been able to call on those superpowers. Maybe I'm less tired, or it's too hot. Even today, I tossed and turned until morning arrived. Now, it's already night again. I'm writing this letter to help me fall asleep. I want to toss out my undigested thoughts from today.

It's technically my birthday today in Korean Standard Time. Birthday, such a strange word, right? Happy birthday, Thanks, Presents, Cake, Party—those are the words in its entourage. Kyeonghwa, you said that we all know, and yet we still love. To me, birthdays are especially like that. A day when you love in spite of it all. You receive love in spite of it all. Kyeonghwa, you said that to love is as good as it is hard to do. For me, every year, this day is particularly like that. And right now, today, it's the hardest out of all those years.

I heard about my friend's obituary. Rather, I should say that I read it. Five minutes before dinner, I received an email from the university. I couldn't make out the obituary written in English from the din of the cafeteria, and I didn't bother trying. It wasn't that I was stunned. I was at a dinner to introduce my partner N to a friend, so I didn't want to ruin our time together. That’s what I decided to do in the moment. Soon, our food came out, and we ate with gusto. We laughed and chattered.

On the way home with N, we stopped by the terminal at Grand Central Station. N said they wanted to show me something and led me by my hand. We wandered through a route different from our usual one. Stand here for a sec. Once we arrived in front of a particular column, N whispered to me and ran over to another column located on the opposite side. I was just standing there when between the bricks, I could hear N whispering. I love you. I love you. The clear sound of their voice reverberating down the brick. I leaned against the column in front of me and yelled hurriedly, I love you, too!

It turns out that these columns are a well-known tourist destination. The Whispering Gallery. If you face one of the arched corners and whisper, the sound travels across the domed ceiling, and it sounds just like someone is whispering right next to you, even if you are standing by the opposite corner. I loved feeling the vibrations that traveled along with N’s voice, so I kept my hands on the column for a long time.

After we passed a few stops, I told N about my friend's obituary. A few more hours have passed since then, but I still can’t believe that my friend has left this world. Because it could be an error, right? Hey, what's all this about? I texted my friend and left her a voice message. This friend briefly lived in the same dorm as me. As she was moving, she left me a large lamp. It's quite high-end. She had said in her particularly shy voice. Even today, I saw that lamp as soon as I took off my shoes by the door. That is, the lamp is still there. Right?

On some kinds of love, there's no way I can write about them properly right now. I realized this while writing you back. Forgive me for making you read such a heavy and complicated letter. If you could think of it as me extending my head to be comforted, I would be ever grateful.

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Yours,
Ju Ly