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Seoul, South Korea.

For two weeks he'd been watching her. Every day, when he came in for lunch, he sat in the front of the restaurant, near the window, so she would be the one to take his order. Sometimes he hesitated over his selection of dessert, just so he could look at her a little longer.

Today he'd decided to make his move. Almost decided. The truth was, he couldn't decide. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd rehearsed a hundred possible approaches, but none was quite right.

She stepped up to the table, her apron rustling prettily, its lace frill catching bars of mote-dusted sun. Terror surged through him and receded, leaving the calm certainty that he would not do it today. Tomorrow, maybe. Yes. He would do it tomorrow.

"Afternoon," she said with a smile as she flipped open her notepad.