This was it. I had landed in Seoul, where my career as a museum curator was sure to take off. Coming off of the high of anticipation and the aeroplane, I gasped, dug out my phone and called my best friend.

"Ohmygodyou'retherehowisit," my friend rushed through the phone, expelling energy more than asking a proper question.

"Girl, I've only just stepped off of the plane. It's white and metallic and smells of fuel currently," I joked, seeing my friend roll her eyes on the other end of the line.

"Do you see anyone wearing eyeliner?" she asked, making me surprised at her seriousness.

"No, Mia, not yet- oh wait yeah. To my left. A few people down," I replied, surprised to see a man with rather extended wings of black coming from the outer corners of his eyes.

"Is he wearing a mask?" Mia pursued excitedly.

"No, Mia, he's not. There isn't a single celebrity here, I promise you. You and your special little wave are going to have to calm down for a little bit."

"Okay, Miss 'Flower Boys Aren't Hot', but you tell me first if anything happens," Mia insisted, "I'll leave you to get interrogated by the police for your art encyclopedias, you kleptomaniac."

"Sure, sure," I laughed, "Bye!"

-

After paying the seatbelt-less taxi the required fare, I took the lift to my new apartment, my two suitcases in tow. When I first entered the small home, a scent of newly-laid carpet hit me like a storm. 'Oh yeah. They only put it down, like, last week,' I thought, suddenly thinking about how quick and willing the owners were to let it out to me. They had said business was slow, but the desperation in their voices was out of the ordinary. I began to unpack my clothes into my closet, which I had sent with the rest of my furniture, of which there was only a wall clock, table, couch, and bed, a few days ago. I was incredibly impressed with the speedy delivery.