Junia had browsed through the same email for the 7th time and decided to go on a walk.

The top right corner of her laptop reads 3:00 pm. She put on her high-rise denim shorts and her favorite Jean-Charles de Castelbajac blouse, attempting to feel more put together. Adding a pair of laced-up ballet flats, this outfit doesn’t fit the vision in Junia’s head. As she keeps going back and forth between tucking the blouse under and letting it flow free with only two buttons buttoned, neither her waistline nor midriff ever looks right. The clock strikes 3:13 pm. The rigid jeans cut her upper thigh, and the well-tailored sleeves muffle her underarm. Irritably, she slips into her lavender dress and leaves her empty studio in her worn-off sandals. Maybe she’s just not skinny enough—she catches herself from spiraling. How she wishes that Sean were here—he’d pick her up like a Barbie doll and keep his palm on her lower back regardless of her fashion choice.

Junia’s studio is located right above the Chicago River. She has gone for a few walks since moving here—along the riverwalk, Michigan Avenue, and the Lakefront trail to Oak Street Beach. Surprisingly, she doesn’t enjoy the walks as much as she used to—back in her Helsinki days. Too many tourists, too many families, too many women in sundresses and men in striped linen shirts with too much hair wax and hand-holding. The river is so busy for its width that Junia could hardly perceive it as a body of water. It feels like another bustling avenue. She puts on Kinderszenen, Op. 15: 1. Von fremden Ländern und Menschen in her earphones, but Schuman’s gentle piano is no competition to those loud boats and EDM. The August sun burns bright; her phone screen becomes illegible in the brightest setting—shuffling through playlists gets increasingly annoying. Nothing sounds right. Sean had always adored her violin and turntable. Her unpacked vinyl collections feel a bit pointless now that her significant audience is gone.

Junia finally reaches the Navy Pier. She carefully stands at the very edge of the waves, so that only a thin membrane of the lake water touches her soles. The water is cold and the sand is grungy. She is still debating her sentimental verdict on Lake Michigan. Sean told her he prefers the lake to the ocean on any day. Junia rolled her eyes and said, Admit the ocean is superior. Sean insisted, I cannot wait to show you around my hometown. Sean ran his fingers through her dark curly hair and gently left a peck on her forehead, like how a dragonfly briefly stayed on the tip of a blushing lotus petal. You’d better get better after we move! Junia blamed him with a sweet smile. They decided to move back to Chicago after his diagnosis. When Junia opens her eyes, she realizes it is a young maple leaf that lands on her messy bang. The leaf is young. It is green and small and abandoned—dead before it could change color and see autumn. At least the Lakefront is quieter. Junia recognizes the grace notes and polyrhythms in Nocturnes, Op. 27: No. 2 in D-Flat Major—a harmony of broken chords played with the left hand on the keys, a fioritura ornamental practice in melancholia.

Another wave rushes.

Junia jumps back, spotting a broken beer bottle amid the splash, while others are plunging into the murky water in neon red buoys. Junia is an indoor cat who doesn’t enjoy getting her paws wet, but she is tempted to submerge herself underwater—asking the lake to suck the warmth out of her bloodstream, encapsulate each of her breaths in bursting bubbles. She needs to switch to something upbeat. The clock reads 4:44 pm, and her lock screen is still their engagement photo. No notification. He never got better.

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Elena Wu (she/her) is an MFA candidate in Writing at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her work has appeared in The Angel City Review and The Popular Review at NYU Shanghai. She is currently at work on a collection that explores diasporic grief and sensuality through inherited mythologies. Born in Nanjing, she is about to move to Rhode Island to pursue an English PhD. She writes a newsletter about her dating life on Substack @draco0304. Or you can find her on Instagram: @i_love_626