"You never called me, " Jo stands before me accusingly, hands on her hips as I walk through the door and into the teacher's lounge.

"I'm sorry, " I apologize. "I was just so tired. We had a really lazy rest of the weekend."

We sit at our usual spot, at the little table tucked away from the rest of the room by the bookshelves that hide it from view. Coffee in hand, I sit, and lament the fact that she is asking me this now, when I'm still not quite put together just yet.

I don't know what it is, but I'd really liked Seokjin. He was charming, and alluring, and yet, there was an air of genuine kindness about him. He intrigued me, I have to admit.

But this morning, I hadn't seen him at the coffee shop, and I haven't had the nerve to text him yet.

It isn't that the date was terrible. He was a perfect gentleman, on all accounts. He didn't balk, or shy away from me once I'd revealed I was a single mother. In fact, if anything he'd been possibly a little too curious about Yuri.

It frightened me, but at the same time I can't deny that I am also somehow drawn to that as well.

I'd put a wall up after my confession, and the rest of the date was awkward because of me. I forced myself to stay until we were done, but I said goodbye at the table, and fled promptly after that.

"I was an idiot, " I sigh.

Jo's face softens, and she crowds me, anxiously showing me her live and support.

"Tell me what happened, " she soothes, "what makes you feel that way?"

I take a deep breath.

Generally I don't like talking about my problems, and so Jo is one of the only people in the world I ever actually talk to like this. I hate being vulnerable.

But Jo is an old and dear friend, and I owe it to her to trust in her.

"I pushed away half-way through the date, " I reveal, "though he was perfectly gentlemanly the entire time."

"Did you tell him you have a kid?" She inquires, understanding suddenly dawning in her face.

"I did, " I reply.

"Did he seem put off?" She runs my back, attempting comfort where I didn't really anticipate it.

Though I surely should have.

"No, " I laugh bitterly, "I didn't even give him a chance."

"Aww," she sympathizes, still gingerly rubbing my back, "you really liked him didn't you?"

I laugh, a dry, brittle chuckle of a thing that leaves my throat clenched and my eyes somewhat watery. Though I refuse to cry, especially in here of all places.

Turning my face away to wipe the moisture from my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, I gather my composure.

"I don't even know him, how could I like him like that yet?" I reason. "So he was handsome? It's not like I've never been with handsome men before."

She eyes me warily, not buying the act that I'm selling. I force myself to smile, and though it hurts I tell her, "I'll be fine, really!"

"I was thinking," Jo begins, leaning back a bit to look me in the face. "Why don't you and Yuri come spend the weekend with us? It's been a while since you stayed the night."

"I'm not really sure that's a good idea," I reply.

Though I love Jo, I barely know her husband at all. I always feel just a bit uncomfortable and out of place when I remain for too long.

"Please!" She begs mercilessly.

"Alright," I sigh, "I'll head over to your house Saturday morning."

She squeals in excitement, bouncing in her seat so childishly that I can't help but to smile. On the counter, I notice the time on the coffee maker's display, and I gasp.

"We've gotta get going!" I yell, startling a few of the other teachers scattered about the room.

Jo turns, looks at the time, and she too begins to gather her things. We both rush from our seats and to our classes, with barely any time to say goodbye at all.

I can already hear my students bickering, and the sounds of chaotic laughter emanating from my classroom, and Jo's doesn't sound any better.

"Hey guys!" I announce, walking into my classroom and greeting my students.

Working for an elementary school means that often, our activities are mildly clean and mess free. I say mildly, of course, because it is art that I teach. Many of my colleagues find it funny, the idea of teaching children art. Personally, I think it's good for the kids.

It gives them an outlet, a way to vent their imagination and creativity. I try very hard to make this a space where these children can be themselves, free from societal restraint and type-casted labels.

I don't believe in any such thing as bad children.

There's this one boy in my class that is particularly worrisome as of late, however, and as I look around the class I notice that he is snoozing in the back, yet again.

Min Yoongi is only seven years old, just a year older than my Yuri. And yet, the boy is always so incredibly angry and defensive that it is difficult to break through to him. Just last week, he'd savagely beaten one of the other kids. And though the other little boy, Hoseok, refuses to say anything, I'm sure that the kids had probably been picking on Yoongi.

"Today is a free day," I announce, gesturing toward the cubby system along the wall that holds all of the art supplies. "Help yourselves."

I watch as the class lines up, each child waiting to pick their choice of materials from the cubby. Some of them grab construction paper and glue, while others grab coloring books or yarn.

Hoseok tried to wake the sleeping Yoongi, anxious look upon his face speaking volumes in place of his voice.

"He doesn't want Yoongi to miss out," I muse. "Or maybe he doesn't want him to get in trouble."