Portrait

I like routines. For five months, I went to the same coffee shop every weekday morning. I arrived between 8:10 and 8:15, ordered an iced Americano, and sat by the window at the table closest to the counter. The coffee shop was near city hall, where I'd worked as a security guard for more than three years. I spent twenty to thirty minutes there, either listening to Radiohead or reading Kim Young-ha. OK Computer was playing when I first met Jin. He was three months old then and came to the coffee shop at least twice a week with his parents. I usually saw them around 8:30 on a Monday or Tuesday. I could easily tell that Jin's parents were close friends with the owner. Later, I overheard that they were both freelance writers and had gone to college with the owner. "Jin rolled over last night," the mother said. "Already? That's really fast, isn't it?" the owner said. I never joined their conversations, but I picked up all kinds of stories about raising a baby boy. Once, the father…

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