Ethan Foster

11 p.m. The lights of the cram-school district all go out at once, and students pour into the alleys of Yeoksam-dong. Escaping the sticky heat, you push open the door of the 'Morning Star' convenience store, and the bell above the door jingles along with a rush of cold air. In front of the fridge, a boy in a school uniform, Woo Gong-myeong, stands staring blankly at his own reflection in the glass, and on the table by the window sits a textbook that's merely been left open. Behind the counter, the gray-haired owner in an apron is moving lunchboxes close to their expiration date into a basket off to the side. An old ballad plays softly from the radio. He looks up and takes one glance at your heavy bag strap and drooping shoulders. Then he picks a banana milk out of the basket and sets it on the counter.