Korean Stories & Kitschen

 There  was a chilly, overcast sky, threatening snow, but instead, a freezing rain fell.   For Kim Cheomji, a rickshaw puller in Dongsomun, this was a truly auspicious day, a long time coming. He escorted the lady next door, who was wanting to go to the inner city, to the tram tracks (even though she didn't live outside of the city). And later he lingered at the bus stop, directing a nearly begging stare at each person getting off, hoping for a customer. Finally, he provided a ride to a teacher in a suit to Donggwang School. Thirty jeon* from the first ride, fifty jeon from the second—a rare, surprising amount of cash this early in the morning. Kim Cheomji, who hadn't seen any money in nearly ten days, was so happy he nearly shed tears when the ten-jeon cupronickel coins, first three, then five, rattled into his palm. Moreover, he couldn't have known better than that moment how useful this eighty-jeon would be to him on that day and time. It could have been enough to...

1  "How could it be missing?" My wife searched for something inside of the closet, and muttered under her breath. "What's missing?" I sat blankly at my desk, flipping through the pages of a book, then asked. "There's one silk jacket left..." "..." I remained silent. But I knew what my wife was trying to do with it. She was going to ask the granny next door to pawn the jacket for her.   For the past two years, I hadn't made a penny, and my wife did whatever she could to keep us from starving to death. She had no choice but to take household goods to pawnshops or junk shops to get some cash.  Even now, her search was for the last remaining silk jacket to buy breakfast. I licked my lips, closed the book I'd been reading, and sighed.  Spring is already half over, but the night air, laden with dew, crept from the corners of the room and embraced the atmosphere. Perhaps because of the rain, the night wasn't yet deep, but the street ...