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Thanks for texting that you got back to the hotel safely.I read Jenny’s response after stepping out from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy white robe.

I jump onto the bed and kick off my hotel slippers before texting back. We exchange a few more messages before she stops responding and I know she’s fallen asleep.

I wait for my body and mind to relax, but same as the last couple of nights, I remain stubbornly awake. Even though it’s well past midnight in New York City, my body seems to think it’s late afternoon in Seoul.

I pick up my phone again. Below the texts from Jenny is the message Secretary Park sent me about tomorrow’s flight, and belowthatis a message from Secretary Lee, my father’s secretary, scheduling an appointment to see my paternal grandmother at her home in two weeks’ time. I take a screenshot of the text and scroll to my last text exchange with my mother—over a month ago—and drop it into the message box. We used to always laugh together at some of the antics of the paternal side of my family—my aunt makes Jeon Sojin seem like an angel. As I hover over the Send icon, I hesitate.

Lately, the relationship between my mother and her in-laws has become more... tense. Maybe a message like this would only remind her that they’ve essentially cut her out of their lives.Regardless that it’s my father who’s the reason for my parents’ separation, his family will always blame my mother.

I delete the screenshot and, instead, text Secretary Lee that I’ll be there at the appointed time.

I throw my phone across the four-poster and press my face into the pillow. Maybe if I stay like this long enough, I’ll trick my mind into thinking I’ve fallen asleep. But it seems to have the opposite effect. In the darkness, all I see are memories from the last time I was in New York City. It wasn’t winter then but summer. Walking with sandals on the boardwalk, sugar on my fingers. Watching Nathaniel as he raced toward me with a bright, triumphant smile, a stuffed cow in his arms. Laughing with Jaewoo as we sat in a booth at a pizza parlor, Nathaniel and Jaewoo on one side, the stuffed cow and me on the other. And maybe it’s this last memory, but suddenly I’m off the bed and changing into sweats, stuffing my phone and wallet into my jacket.

A half hour later, a taxi drops me off outside Joe’s Pizzeria in Flushing, Queens.

I stare at the neon sign buzzing on the quiet street. Through the frosted glass windows, a middle-aged man frowns over a crossword puzzle. Joe, perhaps?

I enter the parlor, setting off the chime above the door. As I approach the counter, my heart starts to race, knowing I’ll have to order in English. While I’m fluent in Japanese and can speak a bit of French and Mandarin, English has always been difficult for me. I take out a crisp twenty-dollar bill, one of many Secretary Park had exchanged at the bank in Seoul for me before I’d left.

“One slice, please,” I say slowly, making sure to pronounce each sound correctly.Ls are particularly difficult.

Joe nods, taking the bill and giving me back the appropriate change. “You’re not from here?”

I wince. Was my accent that noticeable?

“Sorry.” He scratches his head. “That didn’t come out right. I know most of the kids in the area, especially the ones who turn up this late at night, and I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m...” I struggle to find the words. “A visitor.”

“Oh yeah, family in town? There’s a big Korean population in this area.” He places a tall paper cup on the counter with a Pepsi logo printed onto the side. “It’s on the house.”

I take the cup and retreat to the soda machine. After filling it with diet Pepsi, I linger by the machine until Joe finishes warming the pizza up in the oven.

The grease is already soaking through the paper plate when I take it back to the booth. I dab the top with several napkins and then carefully pick it up.

A memory overlays the moment, Nathaniel and Jaewoo sitting across from me.Try it,Nathaniel says excitedly.I swear if Joe’s pizza won’t convince you that New York pizza is the best, then nothing will.

I take a bite now, as I did then. It tastes...

Fine, but not like the pizza in Korea, which is much fluffier, and the way I prefer pizza. There’s not even corn on it. Still, I finish the whole slice.

Outside, a car passes by on the street, throwing slush onto the sidewalk. A dog barks somewhere in the neighborhood. I shouldhead back to the hotel. If my mother or Secretary Park, or Secretary Lee, for that matter, decide to check my location, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. It’s just...

The summer I spent in New York was one of the happiest few weeks of my life, even if the reason why I was there wasn’t exactly positive. Coming here, I’d wanted to feel a sliver of those feelings again. Though, sitting alone in a cold pizza parlor on a winter night isn’t exactly exuding feelings of warmth.

The chime jingles as another customer enters the parlor.

“A slice of cheese for me, Joe,” a young woman says. Her voice is low, melodic. “Just one of these on the counter will do.”

I turn to sneak a peek at the new customer, but her back is to me. She’s dressed in a leather jacket, her hair cut in a stylish bob.

“Here you go, Naddy.” Joe slides an entire pizza box across the counter. “Take the whole pie home. Share it with your family.”

As the young woman takes out her wallet, I stand up to throw my trash away.

“Sori?”

I look up to find her staring at me, and I realize... Irecognizeher. She’s Nathaniel’s older sister. Nadine. “Itisyou,” she says, her smile widening. “What are you doing here?”