"Oh Sangwoo?" You inquired at the front desk of the jail.

"Hmm. He's in the medical ward right now. No visitors. Sorry." The guard responded to you apologetically.

"What?! Why?" Your forehead scrunched together in a worried manner. Was he sick? Hurt?

"I can't disclose that to you. I'd try again in a week." They shrugged and you visibly deflated.

And so you left. What else were you to do?

"Inmate Oh, do you have a moment?" The prison psychiatrist knocked on his cell door.

"You say that like I have a choice to have one or not." He responded flatly, laying on the hard slab of concrete they called a bed. He couldn't have anything on him in the suicide watch cells. Only an non-tear smock.

The psychiatrist paused. He was trying to give the young man some agency, but he supposed he wasn't in the mood for hospitality.

"I, um, I wanted to let you know you had a visitor. Sometimes knowing that someone wants to see you can help..." He shrugged awkwardly behind the steel door.

"What?" Sangwoo's head snapped up. "Who?"

"Oh!" The doctor was surprised at the sudden reaction. "Let me, uh, let me ask!"

"Was it a young woman? That's all I need to know." Sangwoo sat up and stared intently at the door.

"Yes, I do think they said a young woman came to visit you... It definitely wasn't a lawyer." He nodded.

"Fuck! And she couldn't come see me, of course. God, I'm so fucking stupid." He put his head in his hands.

"Do you want to come out and talk about this? About... her?" The man offered.

"Will it get me out of here faster?" Sangwoo countered.

"Well beyond the mandatory, if I see you're making progress we may be able to move you beyond the usual weaning off process. I already see a drastic change in attitude. Come out, let's talk." The doctor coaxed.

Sangwoo sat on his "bed" for a minute and thought about his options. Is she going to come back? Will I be able to stay out of trouble? What am I going to say to her if I see her again? Will she write me a letter? Thoughts raced through his head.

"Yeah... yeah, okay." He mumbled as he stood up. "But can I wear some pants while we talk?"

Meanwhile, you were at home, painting a picture. What else were you to do?

A splash here... a splash there... What am I even painting?

It looks like... anxiety.

But then again, most of your paintings were just random swatches of paint. Your skill was questionable and really, you just let the paintbrush comfort you as you organized your thoughts. The anxiety about Sangwoo was killing you and you would do anything to get rid of it. Even keep painting, despite your lack of skill. After all, you had all the materials, so why not?

"Why not?" You shrugged, feeling some of the anxiety fall off of you at the very words.

The phrase just rolled off your tongue and you thought you might want to say it a little bit more.