I'm afraid you'll have a heart attack (part 1)
Duality: Mamamoo & What Is To ComeProfile Q&A
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Her finger hovered over the screen of her smartphone before she opted to close it down with a click on the side. After another debate with her folks, she's not in the mood to go inside the house that quickly.
You don't know better about what you're doing, her father claimed. The elders knows best. The rules are there for a reason.
After a shout and a slam of the door, she can safely say that she doesn't know what she's doing either. She doesn't know whether accepting the job outside her hometown will prosper much, or anything resembling a degree of success, but again, does anyone ever know about things like that?
The phone vibrates within the pocket of her coat, to which she fished out and swipe it open, showing the opening slide of an application that she's been trying recently.
While closing the dating app that she opened on impulse minutes before.
Welcome to the box,
A place where confidentiality is a top priority,
And where your comfort is the only priority.
The opening words are cheesy as hell, but what else do you expect for something that was made on impulse? Or--
Maybe an explanation will suffice.
It's an application that she created during her app-making project of this workshop that she attended; the kind where you can be anonymous and pouring your heart away, kissing what burdened in your heart away, basically a trash bin where you can dump the black, oozy stuff that has to be relieved off you at any moment.
Safe to say that she got plenty of callers looking for a hook-up session. Which is why she limit it now to texts and short messages until whatever this is died down.
Instead, the engagement rate started to spike up; notifications showed up during her work, and she'll do her best to answer everything away; of course while googling for any answers or random trivia that sounded psychologically professional at the moment.
The solution to feel less co
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