They were there again.

An assortment of pretty colors splashing hues of purple, baby pink, soft blues, yellows, and greens throughout her office. On the corner of her desk. The round center table. On the window sill. At the same time her office was small yet big enough to fit everything. A standard size beat brown desk that sometimes smelled too strongly of musk and heavy-duty paper. Topping it was a HP laptop and a lame black keyboard with a wired black mouse so used it was baby smooth and oily to the touch.

Kim Namjoo was a new fellow intern. This was her third week at Armor CO. that designed and created athletic clothing. A brand that was making headlines and beginning to boom throughout the fitness industry. Not that Namjoo enjoyed exercising, but she was interested in fashion and designing. She had applied through an opening she’d seen on her university campus before graduation. Thought she would try her luck and if she got accepted it would serve as an on-hand experience in the fashion world.

Confident her luck would run out due to the competitive lineup during interview, Namjoo had waited an excruciatingly long week to hear results. Lady Luck had been on her side.

Here she was, returning to her assigned office. Cordoned off into an isolated hallway. Outside the thin wooden door was an elevator across from the room. She always heard it dinging open and close at all hours of the day. It was distracting and annoying, but nothing she could complain about. She was just an entry-level employee and here only for short term.

The thin corridor was lined with four doors that were always closed. No side window let her peek inside. Curiosity always got the best of her, so she’d tried the silver knobs. Doors were locked.

Down the corridor was where life existed. Artificial walls separated cubes from each other. It was where the full-time employees lived their lives. Drinking coffee in front of their huge monitors. Looking up articles, searching the company website, designing on their special pads attached to the computers, talking on phones, doodling, but they were always working on something.

More offices lined the wall. Each one separated with real walls and closed doors consisting of slits for windows that were sometimes left open. Those were the managers’ office. The people who handled accounting, research and data, stocks, and connected with the CEO.

In fact, Namjoo had never seen their CEO. Most of the regular full-time employees had never personally met him.

That mysterious aspect of work wasn’t Namjoo’s worries. She was more focused on assisting the managers. That was where her intern post was positioned. Right under the managers. If they wanted her to make phone calls, she’d make phone calls. If she had to run downstairs for coffee, she would do just that. If they asked for email writeups, paper copying, to run miscellaneous errands within the glass tinted building Namjoo would end up doing that.

It hadn’t gotten too serious yet, but her secretarial tasks were easy enough to handle. Most of the managers she had met were nice enough to her.

Kim Namjoo wasn’t a person who liked creating trouble for others. Though she had learned the hard way to stick up for herself in particular situations.

Dropping off her purse on the floor behind her desk Namjoo leaned over to smell the fresh vase of blooming peonies. This morning they were a splash of pastel whites and different shades of purples. Whoever had the time to decorate her office with fresh flowers everyday was still a question to her.

Majority of the male employees possessed bellies that poured over their belt line. During lunch at the downstairs cafeteria Namjoo had taken peeks of their ring fingers, which many of them wore. The single ones were either too sour looking or had crooked teeth and never looked her way twice. Too busy to give a care about the temp worker.

Namjoo couldn’t understand anyone who’d want to build a relationship with a contract worker who was supposed to be here only six months.

Eyes on the flowers Namjoo sat down in her chair and wiggled her mouse to bring the computer to life. Well, here was another start to her week.

⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕⸔⸕

Jang Moyeon and Ho Jungsung were few of the two females Namjoo knew at work. Both of them in charge of the female lineup debuting in the summer. Namjoo had seen the sketches that would later turn into the form of polyester and cotton clothing. Their type of work was what Namjoo had yearned to do, but she was stuck sitting on her at the computer seven hours a day handling internal company information that didn’t mean anything to her.

Whenever the two invited her out to have lunch with them Namjoo’s mood always shot up a scale of ten. She loved listening to their gossip about the industry, their co-workers, life. Things that the male workers had no interest talking with her about.

“After this debut I am taking a week long vacation.” Jungsung exclaimed. “I can hardly sleep these days. You should consider yourself lucky, Namjoo.”

“That’s right,” Moyeon agreed gnawing through half of her sandwich. “You get to leave on time every day, but I have to turn the work room into my bedroom every night. I can hardly see my boyfriend.”

“Well, I don’t have to worry about that,” Namjoo gladly said. “I don’t have a boyfriend and I want to try sleeping away from home.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?” Moyeon’s eyes went big. “What’s a girl like you doing without a boyfriend?”

Folding her arms on the tabletop, Jungsung leaned forward, “So, tell me, is there someone you’re interested in? Your big sisters will help you.”

“No…” Namjoo felt her shoulders draw up intimidated by their watchful eyes. “Really, there’s no one.”

“She’s lying,” Moyeon teased side eyeing her friend.

“Girl, what’re you doing wasting your time being single?” Jungsung questioned. “Now’s the time to date. Before you get busy. Before you don’t even have time to comb your hair in the morning or put on makeup.”

“Isn’t that a mom?” Moyeon frowned.

Namjoo laughed. “Maybe I’ll wait until it gets that bad.”

After crossing the street back to work, Namjoo walked back into the bronze tinted building. Eight stories of a monstrous glass structure was where she worked. Some offices were open for rent, but as far as Namjoo heard the entire building belonged to one person. She didn’t know who.

Conference, show rooms, and computer rooms took up the first three floors. Namjoo had no idea where these open offices for rent were. Only knew she worked on the seventh floor and that was her only concern. She hadn’t bothered inquiring about the building. Besides it wouldn’t matter. She was only here six months.

“Miss,” a voice called out. When Namjoo didn’t stop the man continued, “Miss in the blue shirt.”

Namjoo glanced down at her blue blouse.

“I think he’s calling you.” Moyeon nudged her.

The three of them stopped altogether and glanced over at the open café right beside the humongous foyer, where an assortment of orange and brown furniture surrounded three tiny boxed tables.

Several businessmen sitting in the round metal chairs in front of the café glanced around for said woman. Namjoo flushed from the unexpected attention. Figuring there was no choice Namjoo stepped toward the café. A bearded man wearing a stained white apron handed her a dewy cup of iced coffee.

“For you.”

“What?” Namjoo stared at the plastic cup. Shaking her head, “I didn’t order it.”

“But someone did.” The man urged it toward her.

Her brow twitched.

“It’s already paid for. Take it.” He smiled.

Namjoo stared at the iced coffee. Lost and confused, but accepted it because there was no other option. It was made and ready. For her.

“What’d he want?” Jungsung wondered when she returned.

“Someone bought me coffee,” Namjoo showed them the cup.

Moyeon nudged her again. “You have a secret admirer.” She giggled raising her brows, “Wonder who it is.”

Jungsung cackled with her, “Good luck finding out.”

Namjoo waved as she watched them walk off then peered curiously at the coffee. Tilting her head, she glanced up. Every floor opened up like a mall. Blocked off by short glass walls, so whoever passed could view the lobby, watch the doors spin, open and close. There was no one standing or looking down into where she was standing on the first floor.

Who, she wondered, kept giving her this stuff?

Getting into the elevator Namjoo slowly trudged through the office. Listening to soft chatter. Browsing amongst the cubes. To see whether a head might turn or look as she walked by. No one. All the males were occupied with something. No one welcomed her back or bothered to ask if she had a good lunch. Ask why she wasn’t in the cafeteria today.

Gripping the cold cup Namjoo turned down her hallway and returned to her office. The flowers were still there from this morning.

Running her fingers lightly across the roses on the center table, Namjoo wanted to know who was taking their time out of their day to do this. Ever since working here she hadn’t met anyone she deemed special, taken a liking to her, anything at all.

She couldn’t have a stalker?

Namjoo shivered at the thought of it. Walking over to her desk she sat down in her chair. Tapped her finger on the keyboard as she scrolled through the screen. Thinking and thinking and thinking.

By the time she clocked out she felt she’d cross checked all her male workers. Still, no one clicked. Namjoo rode the elevator to the underground parking lot, used the side stairs to climb up to the connected parking ramp. It was where she always parked her car because around this side of the city parking areas were limited. She didn’t want to park along the curb and pay a fine or a toll. Namjoo rather preferred the long route.

The sun was still high as she walked along the ramp toward her car. The entire area smelled of oil and well, vehicles. Anyone could hardly get any fresh air here even if the building opened up to the city. The headlights of her MDX glowed orange as she unlocked it.

Namjoo only had to go down one floor before she was following the busy trail home. A sister of two older brothers made her the youngest of the family. Her parents had been reluctant to let her move out, because she was the only girl. Thanks to her oldest brother’s help she’d been able to persuade her parents.

Namjoo moved to an apartment within city limits. Some forty-minute drive from her parents’ apartment complex. They’d walked with her through the apartment she’d found. A single room for a single girl that consisted of all utilities, bed, and bath. It wasn’t impressive was her mother’s first spiteful comment and she’d said it aloud in front of the landlord; thus, she had landed another apartment on the wealthier side of town. A years’ worth of rent paid off by her parents with her dad lecturing if she couldn’t afford to pay by her own means once the year ended, she was moving back home. In other words, they would have her home no matter what.

Namjoo was determined to make it. She didn’t want to be glued under her parents until she was old and gray or until she got married. Society these days reared women to be independent, and Namjoo wanted a taste of freedom after her brothers married. Most especially since she didn’t want to be the only child imprisoned by her parents’ countless naggings. It wasn’t fair.

A big living space opened up in front of her when she walked in. Unwashed dishes reeked throughout the kitchen on her left. She would wash them later she promised, but she would shower first. The bathroom with a shower, sink, and a closet hidden behind the mirror stored her other necessities. Floss, makeup remover, eye cream, and facial oils. Across the bathroom was her bedroom that consisted of a new queen-sized bed. Her first adult purchase since interning. Namjoo was damn proud of it.

Plans went and came chores and dinner. Namjoo relaxed for an hour in front of the television. An item passed down from her second brother after he married. She would make use of it she happily promised when he offered it to her for fifty bucks.

By the time she dropped into bed she fell right asleep. About an hour ticked by before her eyes opened for some strange reason. Then it flicked in her head like a bulb abruptly going off above her head. Didn’t she always clock in three minutes before work exactly? What if tomorrow she went off ritual?

Hurriedly waking up before her alarm went off, Namjoo put on whatever basic makeup, grabbed breakfast, and flew out her door. Intent on arriving at work early. This morning no coffee was waiting for her. Few people were already in the elevator. Many whose faces she remembered greeting daily before never seeing again.

Stepping out onto the seventh floor Namjoo gripped onto the strap of her purse. Feeling her heart pound inside her head. The motion flushing anxiety through her. Today was a mere gamble, but…if she was right?

Namjoo passed the noise of her fellow co-workers and listened to them fade behind her as she turned into the quiet corridor. The elevator was closed meaning no one was coming or going. Namjoo keenly glued her eyes on the silver doors. Wondering whether the flower person had already left or was just coming. A glance at her phone and she was some twenty minutes too early.

She would wait inside her office she decided. It was best she prepare herself to surprise, because she didn’t want to be loitering around. What if she scared him off and he never came then she would never find out who it was? Better yet, what if it was a she?

Confusion collided through her once she opened the door. Spinning around as quick as lightning the vase on the center table rattled, threatening to topple. A pair of eyes blinked back at her. Steadying himself against the table he quickly let go seeing she’d frozen in the doorway.

First, his gaze flew to the side. His head followed. A hand reached up for no reason to touch his collar. Then just like that he awkwardly turned toward her. Realizing she was too stupefied he took the chance to scurry off. Squeezing pass in the blur of a man.

When her consciousness bit back too late and she swirled around to look for him, he was gone. Lost, Namjoo blinked. Unable to grasp what just happened, what she just witnessed.

Peering back into her office she noted new flowers. Again.

What was this?

Leaving the door ajar she stepped inside to the table the man had bumped into when she surprised him. Not roses today. It was yellow and pink lilies in a very narrow vase. Namjoo traced a petal.

Great, now she couldn’t even remember how he looked like. She had come prepared only to end up stunned.

Mentally groaning Namjoo dragged herself over to her desk. In the end she’d come early to work for naught. Dropping her chin into her palm she stared at the pretty blue hydrangeas at the corner of her desk. It was a beautiful sight that made her weary desk glow.

Maybe whoever he was just wanted to cheer her up. For she’d gotten the worst office in the building it seemed. Namjoo laughed to herself. As if anyone would care about an intern. Veering her eyes to the sleeping computer she couldn’t help being curious who that man was.

Namjoo searched for him in the cafeteria during lunch. Looked over the co-workers she sat with. Did a double take of every one of them, even their ring fingers. No one matched what she vaguely remembered.

Slim. Tall. Dark hair.

That was all.

She shouldn’t have frozen. Now she had nothing to go by. At the end of the day Namjoo remembered even less. She couldn’t even recall what the stranger had been wearing. As she rode the elevator to the parking ramp, she observed the men inside with her. Had the man been wearing an expensive suit? Or maybe it was a sweater now that she thought of it. Certainly no one here appealed to the description of him. Their faces varied in sizes from wide to long to red acne induced skin. Their clothes wrinkled from hours of being glued to their leather computer chairs.

Namjoo quickly faced the front when the man in wiry glasses beside her shot her a glance for staring.

Supposedly, it wouldn’t matter anymore. Tomorrow there would be new flowers and whoever brought them would never reveal himself to her. She shouldn’t waste her time deducting who that runaway was. If he scurried off like today it only made sense for him to be some weirdo infatuated with her or something. Best not acquaint herself with a silent stalker. Her brothers would lose it.

Sighing, Namjoo ordered takeout and resumed her normal rituals before going to bed. Waking up on time, leaving on time, arriving at work on time. Three more days till the weekend then she could get all the sleep she wanted Saturday morning. Refreshed from the thought Namjoo joined the morning flow in the elevator. Greeting the usual crowd.

The elevator hissed open on the seventh floor. A good number of them emptied out of the elevator separating down the hallway. Adjusting her purse strap over her shoulder Namjoo walked past the normal workers already at their desks studiously. Then she reached the corridor leading to her office and…

Someone was there by her door. Planted against the wall. A long leg angled out. His head lowered. Eyes strictly on the floor.

Namjoo stared until the hallway grew longer and her brain stopped ticking. Behind her no one acted out of the ordinary, like they didn’t even know there was someone in the hall. When she noticed him lifting his head there was no way left but forward.

Along her left one door appeared then disappeared. Another one and another bringing her closer to him. No movement, so it appeared he was waiting for her to reach him. Overgrown with nervousness, Namjoo pressed down on her lips when she turned toward her door, facing him. Not knowing what to expect.

Two eyes seemed to sparkle when their gazes connected. She thought maybe she saw a smile.

“Hi,” he extended a hand, “I’m your CEO, Oh Sehun.”