She put her phone away.
Outside, Seoul moved past the window, lit up and loud and completely unbothered.
The cab pulled into the Pyeongchang-dong security checkpoint.
Did the usual stop at a block before her home. Walked the rest of the way.
The gate opened.
She was home.
Calista was at the door when she made an entrance.
She had clearly seen the trending numbers. Her expression said everything before she opened her mouth.
"I saw the response," Calista said.
"I know you did."
"May the best group win." She tilted her head. "That was him."
"That was him."
Calista nodded slowly. "Smart man."
"I know."
"I like him more every week."
"I know that too."
Calista stepped aside to let her in. Then, because she could not help it: "Does he know about the shoe comment? That I picked your shoes for the restaurant? Because that was me. I should get credit."
"Goodnight, Mom."
"The credit, Soorin-ah—"
She was already up the stairs.
