“Irene we’re getting coffee. Wanna come?” 

Irene doesn’t bother looking up at her desk and just raises her eyebrow in acknowledgement, “I’m just finishing this report, go ahead.” she replies, her fingers never leaving the keyboard.

“Ok! Do you want anything then?”

Irene pauses, “Hmm.. Where are you getting drinks?”

“Same place as yesterday.”

“Ugh. Forget it. I’ll just get my own.” She continues typing with a scowl on her face.

Yeri makes a stop on her desk before leaving, “Unnie, one of these days you’re gonna regret not waiting for that drink.” 

“If it means waiting for a year before I get my drink, then no thanks.” She snarkily replies and waves them off.

“What is wrong with her? Is she menopausal?” Yeri mumbles the question to Seulgi who in turn fell on a fit of giggles.

“Yaish! Go before I throw my stapler at your face.”

Irene curses under her breath and the duo was gone, leaving the place quiet and deserted. The only thing Irene hears is the clicking sound of her keyboard. It didn’t take her long before she finished her report. 

And there’s nothing left to do.

She sighs and takes off her glasses. She cracks her neck and then remembers how her mom reprimanded her from doing so. ‘It’s a bad habit and you should stop it.’ she’d told her.

She unties her hairbun instead, letting her now wavy hair fall down below her shoulders. “There’s nothing left to do.” She repeats to herself. “Should I get a coffee?”

She gets up and wears her coat before she could answer herself.

The cool breeze brushes against her skin as she opens the glass doors. Irene shivers a little. She likes the cold weather but she hates feeling cold, if that even makes sense. She hates how she’s weak against the cold and shivers easily, but likes the sight of snow and everything that’s connected to winter. 

Another cold breeze spreads against her face and Irene shivers again. She reminds herself to get a hotpack on her way home.

As she turns around the corner, a familiar short brown hair catches her eyes.

It’s her.

The pretty, short haired girl from yesterday.

She didn’t seem to notice her presence so Irene walks closely behind her, quietly. 

And the girl beat her to the vending machine. Again.

She continues to watch the girl biting her lip as she fishes her pocket for a few quarters.

Usually, slow people irritate Irene. Big time. But she’s not irritated. Why was she not irritated? The girl had taken her time choosing a drink and Irene took this time to observe the girl properly; she’s wearing a dark blue wool sweater, black pants and black boots. 

The girl wasn’t wearing any coat but she looked so...

Warm.

The girl just radiates warmth.

Like a cup of hot chocolate during snowy days.

Like a thick warm blanket during cold, rainy nights.

Like a a tight hug after crying for hours.

Irene would bet a decent amount of money that the girl gives warm hugs. 

She could use one now.

The short haired girl (finally) puts the coins in the machine, presses a button and gets her drink. It’s a canned green tea again. Irene wonders if that drink is any good.

The girl sees her and smiles a little with her dimples showing, just like her smile yesterday, no signs of familiarity on whether she remembers Irene or not. Does she not remember me? That’s odd. Irene usually makes an immediate impression on people because of her face. People would always remember her because, well in her bestfriend’s words, she’s insanely pretty. She’s not a narcissist but she’s used to hear this from people. They’d remember her easily, no one had ever asked twice for her name, it’s always been like that.

This girl didn’t even give an acknowledging bow or raised an eyebrow or anything. Anything that would tell Irene that she remembers her, that they were in this same exact position yesterday. 

The girl just smiles the same way she did before and walks past Irene.

Ah! I’m wearing specs today! She thinks. Yes, that must be it.