The Pottery Studio Date – Part 1: Wet Clay

"It's a bowl," said Daniel.

"It's a mountain," said Ji-eun.

"It's an ambitious bowl."

They stood on either side of a small wheel in a sunny pottery studio in Seoul, up to their wrists in wet grey clay. The room was bright and tidy, with shelves of finished pieces, a window looking onto a ginkgo tree, and a smell of rain and earth. A cheerful young teacher in a linen apron was making rounds with a bucket of water.

She was thirty-nine, an architect, brisk, with a sleek bob and a pristine white blouse she had decided, too late, was a mistake. He was forty-two, a university lecturer, tall and rumpled, in a grey sweatshirt, with a half-embarrassed grin. Fourteen years married, a daughter at a sleepover, and a calendar so full that this was the first time in six months they had been alone together for more than an hour.

"We should have done this years ago," said Daniel.

"We should have done this before I wore white."

"You look wonderful."

"I look like a plaster cast."

He laughed, and flicked clay at her nose. She gasped, retaliated, and within ten seconds, there was clay on the wheel, the table, the floor and each other's faces. The teacher watched with a serene smile. "Centre the clay," she said. "Gently. Both hands."

They tried. Together they leaned in, hands pressed to the spinning lump, fingers overlapping. The clay wobbled, bulged and sagged. It slumped sideways with a wet sigh.

"It's collapsed," said Ji-eun.

"It's resting."

"It's a disaster."

"It's a first draft."

They started again. The second time, the clay rose in a thick, wobbling column between their hands, and they eased it into a shape, a squat, uneven, charming bowl with a wide lip. It leaned slightly to the left.

"It looks like it's had a long day," said Daniel.

"It looks like us."

"It looks happy."

She smiled. He glanced down at her hands, grey and slick against his.

"Can I ask you something?" said Ji-eun.

"Yes."

"When did we last make something together?"

"Our daughter."

"Green?" she said, the old word, softly.

"Green," said Daniel, tenderly. "Very green. Let's glaze it."

Continue the story: Part 2 – The Glaze.