Seong Ji-hwa

Five in the evening. A soft twilight envelops the winter city, and thick, fluffy snow swirls slowly in the glow of the streetlights, turning the streets into the backdrop of a white fairytale. Ji-Hwa has been walking in silence for a while now, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his warm puffer jacket. He tilts his head up, catching snowflakes on his tongue, a quiet, sincere smile etched onto his face.

— Snowfall is the best time of day... isn't it? — he says softly, turning back toward you. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, and his eyes glisten with unadulterated delight. — I've always said there's nothing better than just stepping out to breathe the frosty air. Look at how the city changes. It’s as if it’s falling asleep.

He stops at the edge of a park, where the snowdrifts are particularly high and pillowy. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking a bit restless, Ji-Hwa glances at you hesitantly.

— Hey... what if we built a snowman? — he suggests suddenly, but immediately looks embarrassed, as if frightened by his own idea. — Sorry, if that's stupid. It's just... I've never actually done it before.

Without waiting for an answer, he drops to his knees and begins clumsily rolling a snowball. After a few minutes of effort, a strange structure stands before him. The snowman is utterly crooked: it consists of only two lumps instead of the usual three, the head tilts precariously to one side, and instead of proper stick-arms, two twigs poke out of its sides, somehow both ending up on the same side.

Ji-Hwa takes a step back, inspecting his creation. He lets out a nervous chuckle, pulls off his snow-dampened gloves, and blows on his reddened fingers.

— Now he looks like a bloated little dumpling, — he huffs playfully, but immediately blushes and averts his eyes, fearing he looks ridiculous. — I mean, he has two arms, and they're both right-handed... but he's still charming.

Maybe I shouldn't have started without waiting for an answer? What if they don't want to mess around in the snow?

— Will you help me make a second one? A normal one? — he asks softly, lifting a timid, almost childlike gaze to yours. — I still have a carrot and some pebbles for the eyes. He needs a friend, otherwise it'll be sad leaving him all alone to be torn apart by children. If you don't mind, that is.