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talk.”
     
    She predicted my speech ahead of time. I had stuck around for several months, the only one of many. The other employees booked it: they had left within only three or so weeks. I stayed on board for so long because I thought the paycheck was worth it.
     
    But I was at my wit’s end. No longer could I tolerate having kids screaming and yelling at my face. Calling me a “black bitch” when they didn’t even know what those words meant.
     
    We sat down together for our “lunch,” at the front desk. While we ate, there were a stream of customers coming in to pick up their children. The other coworkers were on duty, handling the kids for them. I was on my “break,” which consisted of me tallying up our customers’ charges while simultaneously chewing on a sandwich—sausages falling off the sides of my lips.
     
    I handled the cash register as fast as I could, wiping my mouth with a napkin nearby, dishing out all of the receipts for this week, and tallying up the results for next month. Not only did I handle kids, but I was pretty much the only one who could handle basic accountancy. The other girls helping to run the place couldn’t calculate groceries if it killed them. Sometimes I wondered if they could even wipe themselves.
     
    No offense.
     
    “Lila,” I said, beginning to rip off the bandage, trying to force out the words. When one of the customers stole her attention, and she was half focused on trying to appease someone else, I spilled it all out. “Lila, I’m quitting.”
     
    “Sir,” can you sign here please?” She turned to me. “What did you say?”
     
    “I said I’m quitting. Here’s my two weeks’ notice. Some things have come up in my life, and I’m not going to be able to work for you anymore. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
     
    The man—the customer she was handling—handed back over a couple of papers to Lila. But Lila was still staring at me, her mouth agape. She turned back to the man, nodding at him, yanking out the best smile she could from her disappointment.
     
    “Okay,” she said to me, although I could hear the immense strain, like a cracked violin string.
     
    “I’m sorry,” I said, typing in a couple of numbers into the cash register, chewing on my sandwich, and trying to sound as nice as possible all at the same time. “I’m really sorry that things have to be like this. But I’ve just got to get out of here and go do things for me now. You understand, right? I’ve got to live for me.”
     
    Lila didn’t answer.
     
    She couldn’t.
     
    A customer—a different one—came up to the front desk. Lila was never going to catch a break.
     
    I had to look out for myself though. My own affairs were more important than other people’s. America is the kind of place where you need to look out for, what is the expression? Number one. Yes, look out for number one.
     
    I finished up my sandwich, and went back to the daycare floor.
     
    No longer did I feel guilty about leaving these children. Some other girl could come in and torture themselves over these demons.
     
    Oh, well.
     
    Korea, here I come!
     

JONG-SOO

 
    The Double Dragons took center stage, collecting around the amphitheater’s sides. We had a show to play at, a local event. Right there in Gyeryong.
     
    Most of the guys there wore pretty muscular, which is what the fans really liked. They were leather boots, the kinds you would find in the military. And then they had guitars made out of the finest Italian woods. We also had some traditional string instruments in the back—a pyeonjong , for instance. I knew the show would go well. Our fans always showed up on time, and ready to have a good night.
     
    And just as I thought that, the grass field filled in.
     
    Slowly, little by little, you could see the different types of people who would show up. Women in their 40s, toting around little girls. Gay men wearing nothing but scantily clad hotpants. And then the mostly