Mr. Park has run the same stationery shop for thirty years. He knows the weight of every notebook, the smell of every box of pencils. He can find a red pen in three seconds.
On the first Monday of September, the school principal, Mrs. Lane, comes in with a long list. Outside, the school bus is stationary at the kerb, waiting.
"Three hundred exercise books," she says. "Blue covers. Good paper."
Mr. Park shows her two kinds. The cheap ones are light. The better ones are heavier, with thick pages that do not tear.
"The cheap ones are fine," says Mrs. Lane.
"No," says Mr. Park. "They are not."
She looks at him. "It is only paper."
"It is not only paper," he says. "A child writes on it every day. Good paper is a principle, not a luxury."
Mrs. Lane is quiet. She is a principal, and she understands principle. She also understands a budget. But she likes the way he says it.
"Show me the blue ones," she says.
Mr. Park brings out a box. The blue covers complement the school colours: deep blue, with a thin gold line. Mrs. Lane opens one book and runs her hand over the page.
"This is good," she says. "I will take them."
While he packs the boxes, she looks at the window display. A small paper bird hangs above a stack of notebooks. It is simple and beautiful.
"Did you make that?" she asks.
"My daughter did," he says. "She is an artist."
"It is lovely," says Mrs. Lane. "Please tell her."
It is a small compliment, but Mr. Park smiles for the rest of the morning. When the boxes are ready, he carries them to the bus. The driver is still waiting, still stationary, but now the bus is full of blue notebooks.
Mrs. Lane pays and takes one last look at the shop. "Same time next year?" she asks.
"Same time next year," says Mr. Park.
After she leaves, he writes the order in his old book. He writes the word stationery carefully. Then, because he is a careful man, he writes stationary beside it and smiles.
One letter changes a word. One choice changes a year.
A thought to keep
Good words, like good paper, are worth choosing carefully.