Golden (rewrite)

1

DO NOT ROMANTICIZE ANYTHING FROM THIS BOOK. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND SHOULD NEVER BE REPLICATED IN THE REAL WORLD.

THIS IS NOT A POTRAYAL OF LOVE NOR THIS IS THE NORM OF 'LOVE'. THIS IS ABUSE AND SHOULD NEVER BE NORMALIZED IN THE REAL WORLD.

I DO NOT CONDONE 'YANDERE' BEHAVIORS AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU. THIS IS PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT AND IT IS NOT TO BE EMULATED IN REAL LIFE.

—

"That'll be four dollars and twenty cents!" The friendly cashier informed (f/n). He was about to pull out his wallet to pay,

"No wait, I think I can pay for it." You stopped him and pulled out  a crumpled five dollar note.

"Are you sure? You're still a damn wreck." You squinted at him.

"I may be a damn wreck, but I'm still a decent person. C'mon, paying four bucks and a half for our coffee the least I can do in return." You handed the cashier your five dollar note. Your last five dollar note.

"At least I still have fifty cents. Oh well, good thing (f/n) found a job for me." You bitterly shoved the coin into the pocket of your tattered jacket.

—
Later that day, (f/n) dropped you at a run down, roadside motel. You waved goodbye as he drives away in is modest sedan car.

"So this is the dump I'm gonna be workin' in, huh." You looked up to the large signboard and snorted.

"Motel motel? Who the hell came up with that genius idea?" You shook your head and went in.

"What great customer service. NO one is at the counter. Ha! I'm thinkin' as if I'm a customer... too broke for that, heh heh." You rubbed your nose.

You knocked on the office door twice. It was open wide, so the person inside raised his balding head up to see who knocked.
"Mornin, here to apply for an any available job here, (f/n) introduced me to this dump— ah... I mean place."

His face lit up.
"Please! take a seat."He got up and pulled a chair out for you.
You muttered a quiet 'thank you' and proceed to sit.

The man ran back to his own chair and plopped down. He grabbed a random piece of paper that was laying on the floor and a pen that was on his desk.
With a click of the pen, he asked:
"Name?"

"Its (y/n) (l/n)."
You replied.

He hastily scribble it down on the piece of paper, he then opened one of his drawers to pull out a roll of cellophane tape.
You were curious on what he is about to do. He tore a short strip and stuck it on the piece of paper.
"Here, wear this for like a week or two until the rest of the people working here remembers your name."

The man abruptly stood up and slapped the paper on your forehead.
"Hey- what-?"
When you removed the paper, you saw the balding man holding a rusty bucket and a crusty mop.
"Grab this and follow me, im gonna give you a summa on what you have to do."

You were baffled, you thought the process would have been more complicated with the involvement of important documents and professional interviews.

"Guess this is the benefit of some sketchy job. They don't seem to give a crap." You thought to yourself as you followed the man.

A week later,
you have finally secured your job as a cleaner in a rundown motel and you were allowed to take off the 'name tag'.