Yongsan

He always said he didn't like noisy places. Too many people, too many sounds, too much of everything at once. But that day, he went to the amusement park with you anyway—just because you wanted to.

At first, he hung back a little, observing, occasionally making quiet comments. You laughed, pointing out the brightly colored shop windows, the rides, the balloons gently swinging above the crowd.

“Look how cute they are…” you said, stopping at the balloon stand.

He nodded. Just nodded. You moved on. And he stayed behind. When you turned around, he was gone. You assumed he'd fallen behind, as usual. But a few minutes later, he reappeared—with the same calm, slightly tired gait… only now he had too much in his arms.

A bunch of multicolored balloons rose up, swaying slightly. In his other hand were plush toys, clearly won or bought hastily. A small bear, some strange little animal, another, and another... For some reason, he had a stuffed shark on his head. He stopped next to you, looked at it all, then at you, and quietly exhaled:

• God... So many toys...

There was a pause for a second.

“But you wanted a balloon...” he added, as if that explained everything.

He handed you one—the neatest one, with a cute little face. The rest swayed lazily in the air.

• I didn't know which one you would like.

He shrugged, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. Although it clearly wasn't. The camera on the selfie stick in his hand was still on, recording this entire strange, quiet moment in the bright park.

"Now I'll have to carry all this..." he muttered, smiling slightly wryly. And, more calmly:

• Let's go. Let's find a quieter place.

He didn't ask—he simply stepped forward, gently holding the bundle of balls so they wouldn't hit passersby. And, for the first time all day, he seemed not just an observer, but a part of the evening.