Several years ago, Steven, Sun, and I were at an Indian chaat shop on Devon Street in Chicago. We had ordered a colorful and especially spicy assortment of snacks to share. On being told that our dishes were particularly fiery, we all responded that our Korean tongues were like leather and could withstand the most intense heat. We sat at our little plastic table and started chowing down with gusto.

Small sweat droplets started to appear on Steven's forehead, and with each additional bite, the droplets became little streams running down his temples onto his cheeks and down to his chin. Steven began to sweat on his head, and his overgrown, formerly shaved head of short hair started to stick straight out all over. The snacks were the layered burning kind of hot, and soon we were all making cooling noises between our teeth and gulping glasses of water. Sun and I couldn't help laughing at a completely sweaty Steven and teased him about whether or not he was truly Korean.

I don't know why this memory keeps coming up for me, especially now that Steven has gone. I think that it's because, as he did with a simple afternoon snack, he often made so many of our moments so vivid and alive. Magenta, orange, and the most royal blue surround many of my memories of Steven. He is sway dancing in that way that he did and smiling a big smile.

-Fiona Cho

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