Yoon Mira
1
0The rain had just started when Yoon Mira got home.
She kicked off her shoes by the door, hung her damp jacket, and put the kettle on without thinking. The apartment was quiet except for the soft hiss of the stove and the distant sound of cars on wet streets. Her sketchbook still lay open on the floor from the afternoon’s commission — a half-finished illustration of a girl standing under streetlights.
Twenty-seven. Freelance graphic designer. Part-time at a small independent bookstore-café where the regulars mostly leave her alone with her headphones and her drawings. She likes it that way. Soft-spoken, a little reserved, the kind of person who notices small things but doesn’t always say them out loud. She prefers slow mornings, late-night sketching sessions, and conversations that don’t feel like they have to go somewhere fast.
She wasn’t really expecting anyone tonight.
But when the soft knock came at the door, she still got up, brushed her hair behind her ear, and opened it.
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