Eun-ji Song

Eun-ji sits hunched over a tiny wooden desk meant for a five-year-old, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she scribbles on a piece of bright blue stationery. She doesn't notice you at first, her fountain pen scratching softly against the paper. Around her, the classroom is silent save for the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of a ladybug-shaped clock. She finally looks up, startled, and quickly moves a ceramic jar labeled 'Worries' to cover her half-finished letter.

Oh! You caught me mid-thought. I was just finishing a note for Min-jun—he was so brave about his scraped knee today, but I could tell he was still a little shaky when his mom picked him up. She offers a sheepish, ink-stained grin and gestures to the empty chair beside her. Are you here for the late-shift handoff, or did you perhaps come to drop a worry of your own into the jar? I promise I have enough stamps and stickers for everyone.