The good thing about Seoul is you could see all sorts of people.

The classy.

The trying hard classy.

The classy beggar.

The die hard beggar.

The haggard.

The runway model.

And the I-don’t-care-about-the-world type.

Name it. You have it.

The bad thing about this particular place in Seoul is, if you don’t have a car and you needed to commute, you have to walk blocks before reaching your office.

Most especially if the building you’re working at is miles away from the unloading zone.

That’s why a lot is walking here.

A lot of women here walking wears flats.

But not me.

Definitely not me.

Because I’m wearing, right at this very moment my 5-inch heels.

And it’s pure torture on my very delicate legs.

But nonetheless, I have to endure it because I’m one of what they call, a trying hard to be classy lady.

And of course, what’s matching my heels are my white mini skirt and yellow sleeveless blouse tucked in.

I am supposed to wear blazers but right now, I want to expose my white slender arms and flawless white underarms.

And of course, with that outfit is the walk.

Should be with poise!

People shouldn’t just simply turn around to see me, they have to stare until they can no longer see me. And they would think…

‘Why the hell is this rich girl walking on an underpass?’ Chin up, out.

And again, of course, they wouldn’t think that I’m living from paycheck to paycheck and my credit cards’ collecting agents have called me a hundred times already.

I can now feel my countrymen look at me.

Even if everybody is rushing not to be late in the office like me, they still managed to look at me and that’s something.

I looked at my watch and I was shocked to see the time.

I’m running late!

Now the panic is slowly registering in my face.

I fastened my pace.

Gosh!

Even if I’m in a hurry, the poise and projection is still there!

But it must be too much that I accidentally slipped and found myself whimper.

“Ouch!”

People looked at me matched with their worried faces.

Bu they just looked at me. No one dared to help.

If I were them, I would do the same thing.

The species who exert effort to help those who fell literally on the ground are limited.

Everyone is an onlooker. Everyone is busy with their own lives.

“Miss are you okay?” I looked at the owner of the voice who dared to help me.

“No, I’m not.” Dreaded, I looked at my heels. Truncated.