Jung Aa Ahn / People Watching / Thursday 1-3 p.m.

He stared into the phone nervously. His bright, charcoal eyes, otherwise perfectly calm, darted on and off the screen of the tiny device. The side of his face was very grave, as if he was trying to solve a very difficult math problem. He looked up at the stage abruptly, and looked back down. He raised his right hand, covered in the red-orange sleeve of his fluffy sweater, to hastily rub the screen. He was definitely waiting for something.

Tablo was on the stage, talking about his life. The festival was yet another successful one. The audience were intently listening to Tablo. Echoing cheer and whoops filled the bustling World Cup Stadium. People were enjoying lively events, squealing in delight,at the back of the stadium. He was the only one not listening. It was quite unusual, considering how he was the CEO of the company that held the festival. He typically wandered around the festival scene, looking at the magnificent scene he has created himself.

He couldn't seem to stand still. He slowly started to sit down - no he did not. He stood back up again. But he ended up sitting down on the grass. His long, silver necklace dangled and bounced off the screen of the small, black device he held onto as if it was a lifeline. I was staring at him the whole time. When he looked up and finally looked around, our eyes met. He looked puzzled for a moment, trying to remember who I was. Then he remembered. His eyes widened, and an expression of recognition lit up his face. Hello, we mouthed to each other. He smiled politely. Then he jumped. His phone buzzed. His gaze automatically darted back onto the screen. He had to go. It was time. Tablo started reading a letter from a fan - a man deeply in love. He looked hastily back at me, smiling politely, mouthed - 'have a great time' and walked away in a brisk fashion. I watched as his red back move away, to the side, behind the tent, and to backstage.

I looked back onto the stage to pay attention to Tablo. Tablo had finished reading the letter, and was asking who sent the letter to the audience. It wasn't long before he tumbled onto the stage. Tablo's eyes widened to a size I never knew would be possible. He started shouting, asking if the sender was really him. 

He was far away, but I could see his hands clutching onto the phone again. He pulled the corners of his mouth up to make a very awkward, smile. He then took the black microphone, moving his cell phone to his other hand, and dialed to call someone. He then put the phone on speakerphone. The bustling arena seemed to quiet down for a moment. Everyone was intently listening to the long beeps, for her to answer. A eon of time seemed to pass. Tablo was filling in the waiting silence with small talks, until a different sound caught everyone's ears. She picked up.

He, with a whitened hand from clutching so hard onto the phone, briefly introduced Tablo to her. His voice sounded perfectly in control. His stiff expression was the only thing that gave his nervousness away. When Tablo handed the phone back, he took the phone and took a deep breath. The entire audience breathed with him - he was going to say it--

"Will you marry me?"