The snowy days drifted by, the fireplace, the heat, the cold, and a slow routine that seemed to heal my soul. Jun-ho had switched off "boss mode." He cooked, read books by the window, and let me win at chess, though he swore he was playing for real.
That afternoon, we decided to do something ridiculous: build a snowman.
— This has no anatomy, Salin — Jun-ho criticized, crossing his arms and analyzing my crooked work of art. — The center of gravity is all wrong. It'll fall over in two minutes.
— It's abstract art, Jun-ho! — I shot back, throwing a handful of snow at him. — Not everything has to be strategically perfect.
He wiped the snow from his shoulder with that arrogant half-smile I loved so much.
— If you're going to do it, do it right.
He knelt in the snow and began molding the base with military precision. In ten minutes, we had a structurally flawless snowman.
— Show-off — I muttered.
— Perfectionist — he corrected, standing up and dusting off his gloves.
