❝Allow me to get in between your legs and tell each of your children how much of a good dad you are.❞
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Men who are younger than you? No. Men who are older than you? Maybe. A former fuckboy who is now a single father of two, has intense prejudice...
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I blinked twice, trying to grasp the information the landlord dumped on me. My wide eyes looked into his emotionless eyes, I felt my heartbeat beating wildly and I tried to stop my hands from shaking.
"But— but why? Mr. Kim, why so sudden? Is—" I frantically asked him, shuttering my words out.
"I know this is so sudden, but you have to move out within a week anyhow." He sighed.
"But why?" I asked, I had every right to ask this. I paid rent on time even when I had a shortage of money, I was never a bad tenant then why was he sort of kicking me out?
"I…" he trailed off. "I happen to lose this building in a game of poker, the new owner wants the building empty by the end of the week. Don't think it is only you, I'm telling this to everyone." Upon hearing these words, I had the immense urge to murder him.
"How could you? How could you just put this building on a bet?" I asked, controlling my urge to just choke him.
"It's not a big deal for me, I have other buildings across Seoul." He shrugged his shoulders, making me burn with anger. How could he? It may not be a big deal for him, but what about people like me? Who is dependent on this building to give them a roof on their heads? Who doesn't have enough money so they leave here because the rent is cheap? Where are we going to find a house to live in within a week!? Finding a good cheap rental apartment is so hard in Seoul. Where are we going to live?
Where am I gonna find a house I can afford to pay rent for?
"That's it, it's not a big deal. You can move out in a jiff. Just pack your things up, you don't even have any furniture to move." He looked around in my house, in fact churning in disgust when he saw paint on the floor. "You better clean before you leave. Anyways, I will leave. I have other people to inform too." He looked at me, who was too stunned to reply. I closed the door once he left, my knees buckled and I sat on the floor.
This small apartment was all I had.
"What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?" I have been living here for around four to five years, after a couple of years of living in slums, I finally found this apartment. It was a small one-room with a kitchen and restroom, where I managed to have a bed and space for painting.
It was my everything.
Fresh hot tears started to make their way down from my eyes. Maybe it was a bad time and experience I had while living in a slum or was it the loss of my apartment or maybe it was the memories that flooded my head some moments ago.
Either way, I was crying.
Rays of sunlight peeked from the curtains and made their way in, slowly illuminating my dark room. I squinted my eyes as they were sensitive to the light, lowering my head down between my knees. I continued to cry in peace— until it was disturbed by my phone which rang loudly. I looked up at the nightstand where it was kept, I wiped my tears away and walked to it. I let out a sigh when I saw the contact, clearing my thoughts and throat; I picked up his call.
