ARROGANCE | m.yg

s e v e n t e e n - r i n

   Sunday, 8:00am. Time to get back on the work schedule.

   I pull my soft blue blanket off of me and drag myself from bed, having to put one foot in front of the other with conscious effort. God knows why I'm always an opener, I hate mornings.

   With a few trudging steps I make my way over to my dresser, pulling out a maroon suede skirt and a black shirt. I haven't worn the skirt in ages, and decide I'm feeling myself enough today to try it out again. I pick up all my other necessary articles of clothing and make my way to the bathroom, where I shower and wash my hair with what I hope is speed and efficiency. I take long showers— this is an indisputable fact, but on work days I try to speed my routine up at least a little bit.

   Once I'm clean I pull on my clothes and make my way downstairs to have some breakfast. Today I go for a clementine and a granola bar and sit down on the couch to catch the news. By now it's 8:45, and I'll have to be setting out in half an hour if I want to make it to work on time. The news does not provide me with anything of major substance: it's all political stuff too in-depth for me to try and wrap my head around this early in the morning, so I decide to bring my childhood back a little bit and put on some morning cartoons. Currently, an episode of Telemonster is on. It's not a show I viewed with any semblance of frequency in my youth, but it's entertaining enough to hold my attention better than the news. Just shows my mental age, I guess.

   By 9:15 I get up and head out of the house, donning my all-black Converse to complete my outfit and making sure I don't forget my apron. I jump in the car and book it over to work, actually eager to clock in. I haven't spoken to Dabin in awhile and I've missed him. He had to take a few days off because of his sister coming to town, and now he's back at work.

   I clock in in the work room and Kyeonghwa tells me to get myself over to shelving in nonfiction. There isn't much work to be done, and I finish all the work in about twenty minutes, my knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System once again saving my ass. I then head over to Helpdesk to chat with Dabin but find that he's not there. Curious as to where my younger friend could be, I make my way towards the break room to look for him.

   The break room, too, is devoid of my well-dressed comrade. I'm about to head out to continue my search when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Immediately under the impression that Dabin's playing a joke on me, I answer, only to be greeted with a voice that I certainly wasn't expecting.

   "Hey, Rin! How're you?"

   "Oh! Hi, Juyoung. What's going on?"

   "Not much, just sorta hanging out. You didn't answer my question: how are you?"

   "I'm fine— a bit busy. At work, currently."

   "I see. Is that why you couldn't make lunch?"

   "Oh, right." A wave of guilt hits me and I feel my grip on the phone tighten a bit. I know I need to tell him where I was, but I also know that he and Yoongi don't seem to have the best of relationships. Deciding to tell the truth, but not the whole truth, I say, "I ended up with a modeling gig, actually."

   "Modeling? That's unexpected. How'd it pay?"

   "Really well. I made about two million won in a day."

   "Seriously? That's incredible! I'm glad you missed lunch with me, then, if you made that much money off it. Is it a job now, or was it just a one-time thing?"

   "I was kind of an emergency model," I explain. "That's why I got paid so much. The shoot director did give me her card, though, so I could make it a more regular thing if I wanted to."