03:12 and the thing I cannot open

The envelope has been in my coat pocket for fourteen hours and I still cannot get my fingers to pull the seal. Not because I am afraid of what is inside — I know what is inside, or I think I do, and that is the problem. I know exactly what I agreed to by not opening it in front of the cameras. The roman-letter log. The way he stood close enough that I could smell sandalwood and something metallic underneath. The rust on his cuff. I poured the chocolate on the pillow and I did not shake and I did not let him see me calculate whether Mr. Kang's warning was about him or about what would happen to me if I went in. I chose wrong. I chose the envelope.

Bae Yu-jin said tomorrow night. She will be there. I sent the screenshot and I said he knew the exact time and Bae Yu-jin did not ask me what time or why it mattered, she just said she would come, and I wanted to cry in a way that has nothing to do with the clinic or my wrist or the form I held in a waiting room while a nurse looked at me like I was a problem she had already solved. I did not cry. I am saving it for tomorrow when Bae Yu-jin is sitting on my floor between the fairy lights and I can show her both notes and say initialed under duress and see if she flinches.

I think she will flinch.