December 2012 brought a deluge of snow to Seoul city, making it colder than ever. With the temperature as low as -20ºC, the sun looked frigid in the winter sky. People were wearing all sorts of garments—hats, gloves, earmuffs, scarfs, and even face masks—in an effort to cover as much skin as possible. Long, loose clothes often dragged on the ground, but no one tried to use their bare hands to pick them up. It was as if the cold had also frozen people’s consciousness.
At eight o’clock on December 14th, Daisy woke up in agony, a chill penetrating her bones. She looked out the window, which was open an inch—another careless mistake. The doorbell rang, but she just acted like no one was home.
Daisy finally woke up after about thirty minutes of lolling around. She went out the front door to get the day’s newspaper, but a red box was awaiting her instead. There was also a small note with familiar handwriting:“Happy early Christmas. Love, Tom.”
Tom was an aviator; this was his fifth year working for Korean Airlines. He was widely known for saving an airplane a year before. The airplane crashed after a flock of birds struck an engine during flight, breaking the two motors under the left wing.Like an evil monster violently shaking its prey,the plane started to descend rapidly, instantly awakening panic within the 200 passengers onboard.Petrified screams burst through the cabin. Fortunately, the plane was flying over the Great Lakes in the state of Michigan. The poised pilotquickly turned off the two motors under the right wing and skillfully balanced the unruly aircraft. He maneuvered deftly and boldly before diving into Lake Superior, the deepest of the five lakes. The news reporters arrived on location as quickly as the 911 first responders, and Tom was soon all over the television. “I deserve no credit. I give all the credit to God,”he said humbly during one interview. All his words were true and honest; he really believed that God was the pilot of his life and that despite the turbulence that he met along the way, he was divinely headed in the right direction as long as he remained faithful to his catholic beliefs.
Daisy opened the gracious gift and scavenged through the intact rose leaves as the sweet aroma enveloped her.She removed the contents of the box—–a yellow scarf that seemed to beam dazzling starlight right into her eyes. She felt the ineffable touch of… of a comfortable cushion of clouds, of smooth skin, of soap, of the exhilarating exodus of endorphins. She reexamined the box, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. On the back of the note, the message continued—“I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
How long had he been waiting? Daisy panicked, wrapped the scarf around her neck, and took the elevator down in a hurry. Its doors opened onto the lobby.She took a step outside and then halted, realizing that she was still in her pajamas. She stood hesitantly in front of the elevator for a moment, and then the door closed, pinching both ends of herscarf. An ominous chill engulfed her backbone.
Tom was waiting in the car for quite a while now, but he knew how lazy Daisy was in the morning. He was blissful, imagining her wearing the scarf for the first time. It was made of high-quality Italian silk. He had tested the fibers by attempting to pull the scarf apart; but no matter how hard he’d tried, it hadn’t ripped.

Ten minutes…thirty minutes… soon an hour had passed andTom slowly began to lose patience. He decided to walk up to the room and wake her. But Daisy was already waiting in the lobby, unable to be woken up. She had been strangled to death as the elevator had ascended, pulling the scarf up with it. It had snapped her neck instantly, giving her no time to scream out for help. Unable to tear the fibers of the cloth, she had floundered helplessly in the air and then entered the quagmire of death. Daisy remained motionless—like a painting, like a childish angel, who’d accidentally strangled herself with her halo while playing with it. Tom stared, wearing the bleak facial expressionthat Mother Mary wore the day Jesus died.
This time, Tom could not let God be answerable for such sin. He could blame no one but himself. Every time he tried to dodge thisfact, he saw a monster spawning from his body, sensuously reciting the sin of apathy.
That night, Tom learned what was perhaps the greatest wisdom of the universe—readily giving credit to God may seem courageous, but it takes real courage to blame God and absolve oneself oftragedy. He learned that to forgive, is not to forget and that letting the memory flow is not letting it go.
Tom removed the picture of Daisy from his wallet and burned it. It emitted gray, ephemeral smoke, which he inhaled into his memory forever.