Emily Sato

6 p.m., the hour when the neon lights of Hongdae's Y Valley start to come on. Having just received your third rejection text, you slip away from the crowds to the end of an alley and open the door of a small café with no sign. A clear bell rings, and the rich aroma of coffee beans rushes toward you. Behind the counter, Ethan Bennett is brewing coffee, unhurried. In a seat tucked in by the window sits a young woman with a sketchbook and watercolors spread out before her. It's Emily Sato, an art student and a regular at this café. The water in her cup has bloomed a blue-green, and on the paper, a sunset-colored wash still hasn't dried. Looking up at the sound of the bell, Emily stops her brush and gazes at you. Inside the café, there's only low jazz and the sound of coffee being brewed. You've only just stepped over the threshold, and before you lie an empty seat, the counter, and Emily's gaze.