From "Metronome"

Jin didn’t have a type, per say, there was a spark, or there wasn’t, but sexually, it was important that he could depend on the other person’s body. He didn’t like to hold on to small things. The tactile fragility of sinews and pert bones repulsed him- he hated his own elbows, for example. There was a little knob that stuck out, the subcutaneous olecranon bursa. Bulbous and insistent, like a bottle cap poking out from underneath his skin.

From "Metronome"

The man’s name was Mark. He wanted a dog and a bigger apartment. Under “guilty pastime”, he’d listed “Ebay”. He put two photos online, and sent several more directly to Jin. In this second batch, he’d been photographed with a chocolate Labrador puppy, which suggested that he’d either awarded himself one of his wishes or that he’d taken the photo with somebody else’s dog.
Jin had compiled his profile under the name “Bruno Schulz”, his favorite writer, so that his mother and sister wouldn’t find him online. He never lied to his dates about his real name, though. Usually, they thought it was quirky and endearing that he so enjoyed the stories of an eclectic Polish modernist.

From "Metronome"

When other students gave a poor performance, the Jaquelyn Wu’s and Tony Higgins of his junior class, people approached them with pinched looks and furled eyebrows after the concert. What….happened? There was a real sense of disquietude in the aftermath of such a letdown- the shared sentiment that the bystanders couldn’t let a rising star fall. Jin didn’t experience anything like the day he took a beta blocker. People were embarrassed for him. He’d ruined the last piece of the program and left them with a bitter taste in the back of their throats that would probably end up causing them an ugly feeling of inevitability when their steak arrived medium instead of medium rare out later that evening. I’ll eat it anyway. What does it matter?

From "Metronome"

Timed like clockwork but executed with naivety, Jin had grown used to the consistent interruption of Beatrice’s phone calls during their Tuesday sessions. He tolerated them because Mrs. Carter did, but he hated the string of minutes he had to sit alone in front of the piano, waiting to feel like a human being, again.
But one Tuesday in August, Jin found her on the couch when he arrived for Jake’s lesson.
Even though he’d never met her in person, he could tell who she was from the self-satisfied slump of her body against the couch, the entitled way she let her flip flops dangle from her feet.
This felt inexcusable. Not only was Jake unable to practice, too embarrassed to practice at a “speed for dummies” in front of his girlfriend, but she went out of her way to distract him. Parading back and forth from the couch to the kitchen in terry cloth shorts that seemed to somehow get shorter with every trip.
Most lessons, Mrs. Carter timed her reappearance with the end of the hour, eager to know what Jin thought about her son’s progress. That day, while Beatrice chased Jake up the stairs with an open can of soda, Jin told Mrs. Carter that Jake seemed “distracted”. He thought this would suffice- in Suwon, it certainly would have, but Mrs. Carter only smiled, catering to his disappointment with a well-worn commentary about how very fast her little boy had grown up.
Jin got on a train that very same night for a meeting with a man he’d had sex with twice before. He didn’t know his real name, but his IM screen name was “BlowGo”. He had more hair on his chest than Jin would have liked, but he was ravenous and officious, insistent that Jin be in position when he arrived.
They’d prearranged a knock: two times, followed by a third, and Jin would move onto the bed and turn the lights off, and assume whatever posture BlowGo had specified in his text. When BlowGo fucked him, he did it fast and hard and it was over in ten minutes. Afterwards, Jin would curl up with his knees tucked into his chest while the hairy man cleaned up in the bathroom. They didn’t make eye contact and they didn’t say goodbye, and it was only from peering out the window that Jin realized BlowGo always paid the cab driver to stay.

From "Metronome"

Growing up, Jin’s mother used to yell at him for balling up his socks in the dirty laundry basket. When she found a clumped pair in the dryer, she would pull it inside out over his head so that all the bits and pieces of lint would fall onto his black hair, like dandruff.

From "Metronome"

Jin opened up the book of exercises- a saccharine edition that he’d found online: “Sing After Me Echo Songs and Warm-Ups for Young Voices”. There were movement worksheets to go along with each song, but Jin was the only one who knew this. He could only imagine what a person like Ms. Weir would do if she got to move those purple colored tights in time with “Blue Brother Jake”.

From "Metronome"

Looking at the woman in her just-so house, Jin couldn’t help but wonder if his father had a mistress hidden in a private community somewhere. These American women were more Korean than his own mother. They attended to details. They “got things done”.