"Ms. Frung, what's wrong? You've been frowning since you got here. I don't know what to do."
I remain silent, thinking about how to teach her a lesson. She's just going down to get food, and someone messages her to meet up. Her cuteness is way over the top.
"Yu, who do you think looks better today, the delivery guy or me?"
This is the first thing I say after being quiet for over half an hour. The small girl looks puzzled, like a confused puppy, which is both suspicious and adorable.
"Calling me with that name means you're in a bad mood. Who made you angry?"
"Don't try to dodge the question."
"What kind of question is this? I'm totally confused."
"You can't answer that, can you?"
"No, I can't."
I bite my lip and turn my head to look at the TV. The food we ordered today is barely touched, even though it's from my favorite place, which is so delicious it got a Michelin recommendation.
"Because he was wearing a helmet, it wouldn't be a fair comparison, would it?"
Hearing that, I glance at the talkative girl and shift a bit, feeling a little less annoyed.
"So, who do you like more?"
"Of course, I like you more."
"Good answer."
"But if I compare you to a dog, I might have to think again... By the way, the Pomeranian at the office is so cute."
The small girl chews her food and looks at the TV, watching a singing show. What? Is she comparing me to a dog?
"I want to go to your office again. Besides that Pomeranian, have there been other dogs at the office?"
"You."
"What?"
"You puppy face."
I get up and stomp off to the bedroom. Why am I so moody today? Maybe it's because her answer didn't please me, so I got even more upset. Even though I try to be nice to her in every way, she still thinks that the dog is cuter than me. But if I have to compare her to all the dogs in the world, she'll still be cuter in my eyes. I even proudly showed her off to everyone at the office because she's cuter than that dog.
But she says she's torn between me and that Pomeranian? It's obvious I'm cuter!
Knock, knock.
The sound of knocking on the door doesn't make me turn to the door because I know someone is coming to apologize. This is the nature of women or anyone who feels superior. If we get attention, we want to play hard to get to feel important.
"Can I come inside?"
"No."
I only say it loud enough for myself to hear because if I shout, she'll get scared and won't come in. I want her to know I'm sulking. At least I should hear myself that I'm still sulking and need her to make up with me. The sweet-faced girl walks to the edge of the bed and pokes my shoulder as I lie back-facing her.
"Ms. Frung, what's wroooooong?"
"...."
"Look, if you don't tell me, I don't know what to do, and I can't apologize properly... If you're like this, I feel awkward. I'm staying at your place, and you're not talking to me."
"...."
Hearing her complain like that, I start rolling my eyes. She's right. If I stay silent, it might scare her. But turning around and being nice right away wouldn't be cool. I'm Frung, Frung that means...
