I want her to see me.

Dear Tae-hee,

Today, a boy came into the shop. Seventeen, maybe. All nerves and excitement, holding a crumpled piece of paper with his foot measurements like it was a letter to the moon.

He said he needed shoes for a dance.
A real dance. Not the kind they do for parades.
“There’s a girl,” he whispered. “I want her to see me.”

So I measured him. I nodded where he needed confidence and stayed quiet where he needed space. He watched every movement, like the way the leather stretched or the stitch curled could teach him something about courage.

While I worked, I thought of you.

How you used to dance in your room at that age, the music too loud, your window cracked just enough to let the neighbors hear. How your shoes would be kicked off by the third song, and how your laughter would bounce off the hallway like it was trying to escape the apartment.

I miss that sound.

The boy will pick up the shoes tomorrow. They’ll be simple. Clean. Polished just enough to catch her attention when he moves. I hope he dances like you did—without thinking, without fear, as if the world was made only of rhythm and light.

If I could, I’d make a pair for you too. Just to say:
I remember. I always will.

Love,
Appa / Dong-woo