You stopped being alone in the room with her to find out who she was before the room even existed.
You swear. If one more bad thing happens to you this year, the Christmas decorations won’t be the only thing hanging from the tree.
You tally up the recent damages to your mental: you are sleeping with a demon who is, apparently, actively trying to destroy your life. You’ve slept with three women in two months but end up with none of them. A journalist who showed you a photo of your kitchen light from across the street is ten minutes from your apartment and you’re letting her in.
Great. You really wish you’d taken that free therapy session HR offered at your exit interview.
She said ten minutes, it’s been twelve.
You walk to the intercom and press the button.
“Hinode-san.”
“Twenty-fourth floor.”
“I know, coming up!”
The elevator ascends to your floor. You unlock the door and leave it cracked open. Pour her a glass of water because that’s what you do for guests; even guests who probably waited days for your kitchen light to open. (This is totally not weird and creepy at all.)
She knocks once. Lets herself in like she owns the place. (What is up with women treating your privacy like it’s a currency that you owe them.)
Kim Jiwoo is shorter than her byline photo. Heavier on her feet. She’s carrying two paper coffee cups and a leather messenger bag that has the worn-corners look of something she’s had since journalism school.
She’s smiling. Her smile looks like the type that’s naturally just there. A reverse resting bitch face. Yeah. That’s what it is, she has a resting she’s-probably-gonna-be-a-bitch face.
She sets the coffees on your counter without asking. Takes off her shoes. Looks around and scans your apartment.
“Nice place. It’s exactly how I imagined it to be.”
✦✦✦✦⟡⟡
17 likes from hyeyulenjoyer, -Shin-, Broc, ACESA_Lover, YesorYesnt, Sykeeeeee8, ririknowsbest, LoonaBread, sdfJanuary, JewelFall, SadMango, souza, brandoff, F95, NakkoMinju, juren, and PinkBlood.