Thoughts at a Convenience Store at 2 AM

It Took Me 3 Minutes to Pick a Rice Ball

2:07 AM. On the way home after overtime. Stopped by a convenience store. I was hungry. Or maybe not exactly hungry — more like this vague sense of emptiness.

I stood in front of the rice ball section. Tuna mayo, bulgogi, kimchi fried rice. Only three options, but I stared at them for three solid minutes. My brain just wouldn't work. I grabbed the tuna mayo in the end. No reason. My hand just went for it.

At the register, I added a cup of ramen. A 1,847-won rice ball and a 1,430-won cup of ramen. While filling it with hot water, I looked around the store.

Late-Night Convenience Stores Have a Certain Crowd

Two other people were there besides me. One looked like a delivery driver. Green bag set beside him, eating a rice ball. The other was someone with a laptop bag like mine, browsing the beer section.

None of us spoke. The only sounds in the store were the hum of the refrigerator and some late-night radio playing quietly. We didn't make eye contact. But there was this unspoken sense of kinship. A shared "we were all doing something until this hour" feeling.

(The fact that I'm getting this sentimental means I must be really tired.)

The View Through the Convenience Store Window

While waiting for my ramen, I looked outside. Through the glass, an empty road. The traffic light switched from red to green with no cars passing. A meaningless signal change.

This street, absolute chaos during the day, looks like a movie set at night. Lights on, no actors.

The shop signs were going dark, one by one. But the convenience store stays lit. Always. Twenty-four hours — that's actually kind of remarkable. This space exists at 2 AM whether I'm here or not.

The Part-Timer Spoke to Me

"Need a fork?"

I blanked out for a second. Oh, the ramen. Yeah, one please.

The part-timer looked early twenties. Working the graveyard shift. Why is this person working at this hour? Tuition? Living expenses? Or just because the night shift pays more? I didn't ask. No reason to. Feels like the polite thing is not to question why someone else is up this late.

Cup Ramen Tastes Better at 2 AM

There might be no scientific basis for this, but ramen at 2 AM is definitely better than during the day. Maybe fatigue dulls your taste buds so you crave something intense. Or maybe it's just the hunger talking.

I waited 3 minutes and 45 seconds. (It says 4 minutes, but I got impatient.) The noodles were slightly undercooked, but it was fine. At this hour, anything you eat is fine.

Sipping the broth, I thought about it — I might be back here at this same time tomorrow. This month's release is a big one, so the overtime isn't ending anytime soon. The part-timer will ask "Need a fork?" again. And I'll say yes again.

I Didn't Want to Go Home

After finishing and tossing the trash, I suddenly didn't want to go home. Going home means sleeping. Sleeping means morning comes. Morning means work. Sitting in this convenience store chair, I got this illusion that time might just stop.

Obviously, I had to go. I pushed the door open and stepped out. It was colder than expected. April, but the early morning air bites.

Eight minutes walking to my apartment. I put in my earbuds. Didn't play anything — just turned on noise cancelling. The world goes quiet. There's barely any noise at this hour, but with ANC on, there's an even deeper stillness.

The sound of punching in my door code felt obnoxiously loud. I crept in quietly.

Lying in bed, I told myself I'd eat a proper meal at lunch tomorrow. Alarm set for 7:40. Five hours and thirty-three minutes left.