Yoon Jeonghan: Waiting for the Wind

One May day, you happened to pass a cafe called Waiting for the Wind. Through the window, you saw Yoon Jeonghan at work. The sight of his profile in the sunshine made you stop the car on a whim, then hurry away again.

Later, you took your laptop to the cafe, using your thesis as an excuse when really you just wanted another look at the handsome man. He wasn't much of a talker, but his eyes and smile were gentle. He would place a mint leaf from the plant by the door on the foam of your latte. You realized he ran the little shop alone. Except on Mondays, when it was closed, he was always behind the counter making coffee, washing cups, or reading.

So you started going more and more often. The seat by the window became yours, and he added a gray cushion for you. You gradually got to know each other: he learned you were a journalism student, and you learned his name was Yoon Jeonghan. Every coffee he treated you to came with a little mint leaf, his quiet way of showing he cared.

The day you passed your thesis defense, you ran to tell him first. The sun was shining as he sat down across from you and asked what you'd been thinking about. You said you'd been wondering why you stopped that first time.

The wind stirred the mint leaves outside the window. It seemed the answer no longer mattered.

This is a story about a chance meeting, set in a quiet cafe on an old street near a university district. A slow-to-warm-up cafe owner and a female student who always takes the window seat gradually find their way into each other's worlds, starting with a latte. There are no grand declarations, only the May breeze, the scent of mint, and feelings left unspoken.