You’d rather walk than ride cars and trains.

I’ve always thought this is ridiculous. The first time I had a walk with you, you said I would enjoy it. Well, I enjoy it as sure as hell. I enjoyed how we talk as we look at the changing sceneries of columns of buildings and stacks of houses, of empty roads, colorful parks, streets of flea market, sweets and bakeries, of clothes and craftsmanship. That little stop-over we had when we stumble upon a cheap secondhand bookstore slash antique-shop (I’m really glad that I came with you because at least you will be able to remember the name of the shop, its owner, and the street. Especially the street.)

And who could ever forget that freaking bridge, and a hole-in-the-wall art café we both love. But every part of me – my limbs, my knees, my feet and also my shoes - give up on that 5-hour walk we had and swore I would never do that again, no matter how much I enjoyed it with you. I can’t believe we walked a whole 1-hour trip we usually take to go to the town’s plaza; I can still feel the pain and soreness of my whole body. If you weren’t talking at all, I don’t think I’d even survive the first 10 minutes. So thank you for having a lot of things going up on there on your head. And because I’m new to this town, you told me every bit that you knew about it.

Thank you, I really appreciate your effort. Sometimes you even use your phone to look up if what you’re telling me is true or credible enough to be even shared to a foreigner. “Where did you even get that information?””It’s what my grandmother told me when I was six.” Or when we saw a random squirrel coming out of nowhere and you said that those cute animals migrated from Australia for hibernation. “Isn’t it a lot colder here? And anyway, how did they even come here? Did the squirrels swim all the way from Australia to Korea?”

I laughed on how your cheeks and the side of your ears turned red and muttered, “How can I even win an argument against someone who is intelligent as you?” I bit back a smile because you don’t know how much I wanted to hug you at that time. You’d already won me over but I don’t think you know about that yet. Neither do I. You kept talking and smiling as you remember a lot of things while walking. It eased you a lot; the trip I mean. No one bothered you and you liked that. When some girls recognized you, they kept their distance and you bragged about how nice your supporters are. You were giddy, bubbly and spontaneous. You said you’d rather walk and let the wind touch you, let the cars pass you by and admire the changing directions of the road and the sceneries of this place. It’s better because you said you can think more and reflect on your life. And then you start turning your geekiness on me as you talk about the different disadvantages that vehicles and driving bring to this humanity.

You like walking because it clears your mind, and you like it better that day because I am with you.

My heart leaped with a change of heartbeat.

I hope you didn’t hear that while you hold my hands or when you hugged me just because you think it’s cute.