“Hello?”

“Good morning, may I please speak with Mr. Park?”

“Yes?”

“Mr. Park?”

“Yeah, who is this?”

“Hello, this is Hirai Momo from Peach Cosmetics and I was just wondering if you have a minute to talk about our latest exciting promo deals on Color and Flavour Lip Gloss Trio packs which you can grab right now with a free-”

“No thank you.”

“Well can I interest you in our Month End Blowout for the…’Naughty-Naughty Spank Me’ Eyeshadow Palette...”

“Was that a question?”

"I-...Okay maybe something for your significant other? We offer excellent gift wrapping services for all our products for a very enticing pr-"

"My wife just left me with our only child."

”O-oh. I'm...very sorry to hear tha-"

"She took Michael too."

"Your...other child?"

"Michael's our dog."

"O-kay, um...well we have other-"

The all too familiar hum of a dead line blared in her ears, making her lips purse as more of a reflex now throughout the few months she’d been working under the brand. She reclined on her swivel chair to catch her breath as if coming up for air after a long dive.

Twenty-four, she counted. 135th of that week, a total of 62 successful prospects thus far. A significant improvement from last week’s count and she kept this small triumph in her head after every call to keep herself afloat because one could easily drown in a cubicle given enough time and monotony. Especially her own cubicle.

But she should’ve expected this from day one when the company’s very own telemarketing team pitched the position.

“And of course, the cherry on top of all the nifty bonuses you’ll receive, you’ll get your very own four-by-four, newly painted, earthquake-proof cubicle!” The department head - Mr. Lee said with a wide grin and enough enthusiasm in his voice that could have convinced anyone that they’ve just won the lottery.

He told her that the lamp was a bonus, then presented her office computer like it was the latest Alienware model from the year 2040. She could tell that he was good at this because at some point in his pitch, and without her even realizing it - she’d become thrilled to start working here.

As if a spark had suddenly started and set something inside her aflame in the middle of a lifeless blizzard. She shook the arsonist’s hand and sat on her new swivel chair, feeling the state of the art curvatures in its backrest that was designed to put office workers like herself at ease even in the midst of an earthquake.

It worked. The only difference now was that she had become aware of the type of ‘ease’ and ‘earthquake’ the whole place talked about. The type of complacency it provided as she floated in a constant state of being perfectly fine with everything and everything was perfectly fine being constant.

To say it was a bore would be enough to answer her friends whenever they asked about her job, but as she spent more hours confined in her earthquake-proof cubicle, making calls to people who haven’t got a single minute to spare, the fire that had once been lit had slowly died until snuffed out completely. And now she was stuck there surrounded by grey walls and grey desks and grey faces that seemed to meld with the whole structure.

She raised her chin to look up at the gray clock - the only view above the panels of her office, and began counting the seconds of her life she had to waste before the day was over.

When her gaze returned, she caught sight of the wooden rabbit piece she had made a few years ago. A much smaller and simpler work compared to the ones back at her apartment, but she liked it the most because it reminded her of summer thirteen years ago when she spent June in her aunt's lakehouse cottage with the pines and birds that sang every morning as she woke up to the smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate.

Her aunt gave her a block of Aspen wood wrapped in red ribbon as a parting gift and it had been her favorite gift ever since. She liked it so much that she swore she’d only use it when a literal bolt of inspiration, similar to the ones that had struck Michaelangelo or Luisa Roldán, would strike her down. The only exception was the rabbit, in her attempt to immortalize that summer. It laid in the corner of her desk at the very top of the highest stack of papers as if to assert some form of dominance over what her life currently was.

And then a pathetic smile lingered on her lips as she thought about it. Her life; a stack of papers in an earthquake-proof cubicle where she gets paid to get hung-up on.

Two sharp knocks then swung her over. “Hey, Momo!” Her cubicle neighbor - Mrs. Baek, peeked behind the open panel of her office like a floating head with bright red lips that curved to a practiced smile, her eyes almost hidden beneath the smoky brown of her eyeshadow.

“Hey, Mrs. Baek.”

“So listen, are you free tonight?”

She paused to recall if she had any errands to run before eventually nodding. “I guess so, yeah.”

“Okay great!” Mrs. Baek beamed and finally took a step towards the entrance, revealing the rest of her body. “Me and some of the girls down at HR are planning a Karaoke night after work and we’ve already phoned Pink Cat to reserve their Master Booth. Wanna come? Oh and don’t worry, we’re letting some of the guys tag along as well,” she winked.

Suddenly she wished she had errands to run. “That’s kind of you to offer but um, I’ll have to think about it,” she gave a weak smile.

Mrs. Baek’s smile slowly dissolved as she nodded deeply as if she understood everything that was going on inside her head. She didn’t ask what kept her from saying yes or why she had to think about it if she was already free. “Well if you decide to come, just give me a knock,” she smiled again and left without waiting for another reply.

Her presence there was unimportant and Mrs. Baek knew that just as much as she did. She didn’t know anyone in that department and no one there knew who she was and she was perfectly fine with that. An evening by herself in her apartment, watching TV with a bag of popcorn seemed infinitely better than spending it in a Karaoke bar where everyone had to raise their voices to keep a conversation.

Even worse, spending it with anyone who worked in this square drab of a company. She had to spend eight hours a day for five days a week with the same people who wore the same lifeless clothes and the same stoic faces straight out from the blank walls of the building. The mere idea of spending two or more hours with them outside of the nightmare that was her work was enough to drain the colors from her hair.

She had no intention of going, but leaving Mrs. Baek uninformed about her decision was just a bit too rude. The woman was kind enough to invite her after all. She had to give her a reason at least. So, a few minutes before work ended, she made her way to the comfort room, and into yet another cubicle. Grabbing her phone from her pocket, she dialed in her friend, Sana.

“Hey great timing!” Sana’s shrill voice blasted on the other end. “I’ve been meaning to phone you since this morning about a couple of names I got here who might be interested in looking at your portfolio.”

She moved her phone’s speaker an inch away from her ear. “Yeah, hey listen, can we talk about it later tonight? Are you free?”

A laugh came out as a buzz. “Hirai Momo, finally asking me out on a date. About damn time.”

“You wish,” she chuckled. “But no I um...I just kinda need a ticket out for tonight.”

“Why? Baek hounding your again?”

“Hey she’s not a bad person, alright? But yes, she invited me along for Karaoke and I’m not exactly feeling very Karaoke tonight.” She almost leaned back onto the door of the cubicle before remembering it was a comfort room cubicle.

“So tell her about it, Momoring. You don’t have to keep making these excuses every time.” A sigh came out at the end. “And you know, people just usually lie about seeing someone else as an excuse. You don’t actually have to invite me just to convince her. She’s not gonna call the FBI on you.”

“Okay well thank you for the ditching tip, but it’d actually be nice to hang out with you after work.”

Another laugh. “Alright, alright. You’re lucky I like you. 7 at Doore’s?”

“Meet you there.” She hung up then peeked out the cubicle before walking back to the one she  owned.

When work ended, she mustered up what courage she had to tell Mrs. Baek about her sudden meeting with a patron who was interested in her portfolio. When Mrs. Baek asked her what portfolio she did, it only then just occurred to her that she hasn’t told a single soul in the company about her hobby and the woman was ecstatic to hear it. It was like someone told her the juiciest gossip that has yet to circulate their floor and Momo found the possibility of it being the case to be terribly funny.

Everyone would be whispering about it during lunch breaks or when they hold their little conventions in the comfort room or in the fax room. The dirtiest, most scandalous hot topic to ever be released was that Employee #64, Hirai Momo from Sales & Marketing loved to get her hands dirty in sawdust and splinters from chipping some hippie second-hand Norwegian wood she bought from Craigslist. What a freak, they’d think. The issue could last a few months if no one topped it. She doubted anyone could.

But she’d be thankful either way because it just saved her from Mrs. Baek’s unlikely-but-possible disappointment over the rejection. The woman had become too excited knowing about her dirty wooden secret to bother with the disappointment.

Once she calmed down, Mrs. Baek let her go with another polished smile which she took to be a good sign. She hailed a cab and asked to be dropped off one block away from Doore’s to buy a box of apple tarts for Sana and another box for herself. She walked the rest of the avenue, weathering the crowded streets of a Wednesday evening with the ghost of Winter’s breeze on her back.

Most of the Ginkgo trees that lined the streets were still bare and looked more like upright roots reaching towards the sky that had been blocked by taller buildings and skyscrapers that looked just as barren. A few however had already started budding with green dots sprouting amongst their branches, signaling the gradual transition into Spring.

She liked Spring the most as it sat comfortably between Winter and Summer. The air was still dry and cool but had already shrugged off it’s icy edge. Walks outside were much more tolerable, and it had to be if she was to go anywhere; oftentimes the park, where the rows and patches of tulips and daffodils and bluebells had begun their cycle for the year as their buds wake up from the slumber of snow.

New beginnings, she always thought. Spring meant new beginnings and new opportunities and new adventures. And although the past few Springs that’ve come her way hadn’t always kept its promise, she still believed it unquestionably.

She had to believe it. More as something religious like how Christianity promises salvation to those who believe and follow their teachings undoubtedly But also because if she didn’t, she’d get swallowed up by the fires of hell that came in the form of insecurity and stagnancy. Because if she didn’t, she’d complete her transformation and become a full-fledged Peach Cosmetic drone with grey clothes and a grey face and a grey laugh who would always be content in the rejections of people she barely knew. She huddled her red coat tighter, feeling the ghost of Winter’s chill brush by.

It was quarter after seven when Sana and her girlfriend, Chou Tzuyu arrived. Her shoulders slumped a bit seeing her friend’s unannounced plus one. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Tzuyu or anything. Just the idea that she had to behave more appropriately now because they still weren’t that close.

That, plus there were no tables for three at Doore’s - a bar for people who didn’t mind standing up while drinking. If anyone wanted a guaranteed seat, they’d have to arrive an hour early before opening because the place was always packed. Not because they served anything special, apart from their deconstructed burgers that looked like regular burgers they just couldn’t bother to assemble, but simply because the booze was cheap and it didn’t smell like the inside of a musty leather shoe. By some dumb luck, the seat next to her along the bar top was vacated right when the two lovebirds arrived.

Sana greeted her with a groan and a warm hug, the soft fur of her jacket prickling her chin as her citrusy perfume instantly aded her senses. “How the hell is it already a cluster out there? It’s barely even seven for crying out loud.” She said with a huff and got up the bar stool to order three bottles of beer, leaving Tzuyu to stand next to her.

“Babe, it’s 7:20,” Tzuyu leaned in to whisper with an amused smile.

“Oh please, you think twenty minutes would make any difference? Hell no. Traffic system’s just straight-up garbage.” Sana ran a frustrated hand through her long orange hair before swiping one of the bottles, taking her first swig of the night.

Tzuyu shrugged and grabbed her own bottle, not bothering to say anything more on the unwinnable case. 

Momo tried to offer Tzuyu her seat to preserve their image of a couple but she insisted on standing. The woman was much taller than her and Sana, standing just as tall as them even with the bar stool and more so now because of her slim, black high-waist pants and long cardigan.

“Here.” Momo handed her the paper bag with the box of apple tarts. “Had a feeling you might need some treats tonight.”

Sana gasped for a good two seconds. “See, this is exactly why we’re best friends!” She leaned in and gave her another hug.

“Because I always buy you stuff?”

“Well, that’s on you, yes. But also because we have some psychic twin connection, y’know? Like a distress signal to let you know when I’m in distress,” she said, opening the box to sample a tart.

She laughed and nudged her with her elbow. “Screw you! Where were you when my distress signals went off?”

“Um, hello? That’s why I’m here.” Sana held her bottle and raised it at her before taking a long swig.

“You’re here because I called you. Not because of some psychic signal.” She said before copying the gesture.

“Details, details. Just admit that we’re inseparable twins and that I just saved your from Baek’s manicured claws.”

She smiled at the word ‘inseparable’ and how much it rang true ever since she met her back in college. And even though Momo had to drop out by the end of her second year to look for an immediate job, Sana stuck with her as she continued with her classes, meeting outside of campus during her spare time. Why the girl even bothered with her instead of her classmates, she wouldn’t know. But she was infinitely grateful to have someone like her around.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming,” she said, taking another swig to drown out the mild embarrassment.

“You can thank me by looking over this list.” Sana brought out her bright pink Post-It notes and slid the pad in front of her. Momo looked over it and saw a bunch of company names and a few other individuals she couldn’t recognize. “And you can thank this statue over here for writing down some of the names in there,” she gestured over to Tzuyu who was quietly downing her own bottle.

“Oh wow, hey thank you! That’s really thoughtful of you.” She faced Tzuyu with a polite smile.

“Most of the names there aren’t actually hiring right now but I think they’d be open to review portfolios if you’ve got any to show.” Tzuyu shrugged at the end as if to tell her not to get her hopes up.

“I appreciate it. I’ll look over them when I get home.”

And just when she was about to shove the pink paper in her bag, Sana turned to her. “You better. And promise me you’ll actually look into them this time, Momo. Don’t just Google the names and forget about them while trying to make up your mind. You need to phone their numbers, set up a meeting, get your pieces ready, wax your legs, get your nails done, and show them what you can do,” Sana said, taking on a more commanding tone like a mother.

Momo flashed a smile, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’ll try.”

“Hey,” Sana placed a firm hand on her shoulder, her eyes soft yet adamant. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” she said with a nod but didn’t bother to look at her because she had only meant half of it. Or she did, but as to when she’d actually do all those things, she didn’t know. And she knew this was the extent of her friendship with Sana.

The kind that was sincere enough to keep a promise, but distant enough to deliberately misunderstand. Because oftentimes, Sana had a tendency to steer a light and casual conversation about hobbies she enjoyed like wood carving, towards money. She’d tell Sana how much fun she had making a new piece and the woman would automatically list down a whole bunch of company names that would pay “a helluva lot” of money for it. Momo liked her enough to appreciate the gesture but the thin veil between them regarding the topic had always kept her from raving about it too much.

“I know some people,” Tzuyu cut in without facing them, her gaze languidly roaming around the bar as if she found everything else more interesting than their conversation. “You know Carved Hearts?”

“The one up north?” Sana asked.

“Uh-huh. The secretary who works there owes me a favor. Maybe I can cash it in and ask her to put in a good word for you if you ever want to submit your pieces,” Tzuyu finished her first bottle and tapped it over the counter.

Sana’s eyes lit up. “Hey that’s a great idea!” She grabbed Momo by the wrist and shook it a little as if sensing her indifference about it. “Aren’t they the ones who take commissions? Like a group of sculptors?” She asked, but Tzuyu had already gotten back to her pedestrian-watching.

“I think so,” Momo answered, still disinterested. “I think that’s in the town where my aunt’s cottage is located.”

Sana elbowed Tzuyu. “Baby, give them a call tomorrow. See if they have a position open for a talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping - yada yada woodcarver.”

“What - hey no, I still have a job if you’re forgetting. And are you crazy?! That's a long way up north! I don’t know anyone there. My aunt moved out of that place a long time ago, remember?”

“But aren’t you the one who’s always so pumped about new adventures? C’mon, it’s like moving into uncharted territory, meeting new people, experiencing a totally different culture, and actually having a job that pays well!” Sana effused, holding both her hands now. “And you know, just face it. I mean we both know you hate your job.”

She scoffed to try and make light of her comment. ‘Hate’ was a strong word. She didn’t hate her job. She didn’t hate Mrs. Baek or her cubicle or the greyness or the monotony of rejection from strangers that hung up the phone. Hating on it meant that she hated getting paid enough to provide for her basic needs. Hating on it implied that she’d rather live in the cold streets with people who’d sell everything they owned just to get a job like hers. It’s insensitive, she thought.

But just because she didn’t hate her job, didn’t mean she liked it either.

“It’s just too sudden,” she said, shaking her head as a finality. “I promise I’ll think about it, okay?”

Sana pulled back, hands receding as her brows furrowed with a hint of concern. “Momo,” she said with a scoff that carried a bit of an edge, prompting Momo to get ready for the woman’s usual reprimanding. “Until when? You keep saying you’ll think about this and you’ll think about that, but you never come to a single conclusion. And while you’re so busy making up your mind, life’s just passing you by. Don’t promise me the same thing if you’re just gonna-”

“Babe, she’s gonna think about it, alright? Properly. Moving all the way there is a big undertaking. Give her some space,” Tzuyu cut in, finally turning to face them and for some reason Momo felt embarrassed for disturbing the peace she was having. She felt like a kid - shrinking as she sat on a stool in a crowded bar with her parents, whom she dragged out to weather the evening traffic just because she didn’t want to go to a party. Embarrassing.

Sana gave out a tired sigh, rubbing both hands against her face. She seemed more frustrated about the whole issue than Momo was. “Okay, okay. Hey.” Sana called out and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Let’s just enjoy tonight, hm? No more boring work talk. I promise.” She threw in a smile that was probably meant to reassure her but instead only made her feel more of a child.

“I’d appreciate that,” said Momo, clinking their bottles as a testament.

As promised, the night went on without anyone tripping over work topics. Instead, they gravitated towards Tzuyu with Momo asking her questions, and Sana expounding Tzuyu’s brief answers. Sana had met her a year ago at a luncheon that her boss arranged between a client of the company. Tzuyu represented the client while Sana tagged along to keep track of the transaction - which inevitably led to her keeping track of a certain someone instead.

The rest of the evening became an interview for Tzuyu because the other two had already learned almost everything there was to know about each other and if they had any new info to share, they’d have already learned about it through texts..

They called it a night when all three of them agreed that the whole place had grown too warm for comfort even with their layers off and collars ed. Sana has always been bad with alcohol. Three was her limit on a normal day, four if she was in a party trying to impress someone, two and a half if she had something to spill. Half because before she finishes the third one, she’d cry herself out and forget about it before blacking out, leaving Momo to drag her out the bar and into a cab as she took her back to the girl’s apartment. Momo thanked the stars it wasn’t her job anymore.

Tzuyu wrapped a steady arm around Sana as they walked carefully along the alley. The night breeze carried the ever-present smell of smoke that came from a mixture of cigarettes, air vents, and cars that wailed impatiently across the city. The dark, unlit gaps that lined the street reeked of piss and something wet and rotting. She looked up at the broken strip of sky, obstructed by the solid shapes and edges of buildings, and saw nothing. Not a star in sight. Nothing to distinguish it from the rest of these man-made constructs and so it looked as if the darkness melded the sky and the shadows of buildings together into one murky canvas. She stared at the expanse and saw nothing. Still nothing.

“Hey do you still live with your ex?” Sana suddenly asked, narrowing her eyes at Momo as she pointed an unsteady finger.

Momo waited for her initial shock to wear off before answering, “No. No I don’t.”

“Huh...wait I thought you said she still lives with you?” Ooor was I trippin and misinterpreted your angsty poeticism about how you’re still not over her?”

She waited for Tzuyu to tug at Sana’s leash like how she intervened back at the bar but the woman looked too preoccupied keeping the two of them from tripping into the night.

“That was a long time ago,” she answered with a lighthearted laugh. “But of course, you’d remember all about that if you hadn't ordered a third bottle back there.”

“Shattap! I’m perfectly drunk,” she hic’d. “Sober. I meant soberly drunk.”

“Never change, Sana.”

The three of them emerged from the darkness of the narrow alleyway and into the bustle of main street where the communal glow of lights from windows, street lamps and headlights cast a spell that turned night into day.

Everywhere, people moved in a constant blur and with such preoccupation in their faces that made her think that if she were to dance in the middle of it all and disrupt the flow, no one would bat an eye. They’d all simply move aside or drown her in the motion. They wouldn’t care about that either.

Momo hailed a cab for the two and said her goodbyes as Tzuyu guided Sana into the backseat like an elderly woman.

"Hey, c'mere," Sana waved a hand over to her through the open window. She leaned in from the sidewalk and was surprised when Sana flung her arms around her for a hug. "I love you, mkay?" The girl slurred against her ear. "I know you hate it when I act like your mom or whatever, but I just don't wanna see you looking so glum working at that damned company."

She smiled silently and let the embrace last a bit longer. “I know. I’ll consider north,” she whispered before finally letting go, watching Sana’s hand wave into the air with the cab driving further into the night. The lights flickered all around her as she stood at the crowded sidewalk, waiting for another cab to notice her raised hand with her red coat. But they all passed her by.

It was around eleven when she finally reached her apartment; a cream-coloured building squeezed between a confectionery shop and a dilapidated movie theatre that featured old Italian movies like “La Dolce Vita” and “L’Eclisse” on Saturday evenings. She attended these cyclic screenings whenever time allowed and was convinced that no one else looked forward to old Italian black and white films with cliche romance and sappy dramas more than she did. Or at least, among the five others who watched it with her.

She had always seen a certain appeal to black and white films and the intricity with which they were filmed. And she found it simply amazing that in an age where colour had only recently come to movies, these people simply leaned on and made use of lights and shadows and scene compositions to craft and sculpt works of art. Momo enjoyed these evenings alone and she felt that no matter how close she was to Sana or to anyone else, she’d keep it a secret because no one would understand her fascination. The red leather seats that have long begun flaking; the old and dusty smell of the carpet flooring; the line of cigarette smoke catching light from the projector room; the sound of an outdated stereo set. All of it she kept to herself like a world that she had already immortalized in her head. A world of her own seemingly undisturbed by time.

Momo trudged all the way up to the third floor of her apartment and dragged her feet along the narrow corridor. She stopped at the very end, in front of the lone window overlooking the back parking lot to look for her keys in her sling bag. The sound of a door creaking behind her automatically prompted her to stop. She knew who lived at the opposite end of her unit. She knew her all too well.

“Evening,” a voice called out behind her.

Momo turned around to greet the familiar face. “Hey.” She offered a polite smile, then thought of something more to say but came up with nothing so instead busied herself again with finding her keys.

“Out with Sana?”

“Yeah.” She nodded without looking up.

“How is she?”

“Same old.” She smiled to herself before finally finding her keys.

“Still drunk?”

She heard a laugh at the end of the question that ticked her off a bit even though she knew it was said in jest. Momo never answered the question, and instead greeted her a good night. The door was quick to open and was even quicker to close. Momo stood still for a minute, back against the door as she pondered for the hundredth time why neither of them had bothered to move to a different apartment after they broke up. She didn’t want to move out because it was too much of a hassle to look for a cheap and decent unit in the city. Besides, she thought, she was the first one to occupy this building between the two of them. Why should she be the one to move out?

She opened the lights to the kitchen, then to the living room, flinging her bag onto the sofa before plopping down beside it. The encounter caught her off-guard for some reason. Even though any feelings that might’ve lingered had been snuffed out by the hands of time, Dahyun was still a part of her past. A relic now - and oftentimes with relics, evoke a certain degree of nostalgia. It was like looking at an old flaky photograph. Sometimes the photo showed two people laughing in a park with the sun out and flowers blooming in the background; sometimes it showed only one; a figure hunched and hugging her knees in an unlit room.

Momo stood up and grabbed her towel from her bedroom. She threw her coat onto the bed, ed her top, shook off her heels on the way to the bathroom. Afraid that her train of thought would spiral down if she kept static, she took a cold shower, making sure to wash away any traces of filth that might’ve clung on. She put on her pajamas, drank a full glass of water, brushed her teeth, set her alarm to seven, then collapsed onto the bed. No dreams came that night. Nothing but the usual whispers of a question that comes every night before she goes to bed.

Will tomorrow still be the same?

“Hello?”

“Good morning, may I please speak with Mrs. Lee?”

“Speaking.”

“Hello Mrs. Lee, this is Hirai Momo from Peach Cosmetics and I was just wondering if you” - the tone hummed dead - “...have a giant stick up your…” Momo grumbled as she leaned back to her swivel chair, pinching the bridge of her nose in exhaustion. It was only 10 in the morning and the call had been her 21st of the day; and her 15th of the total rejections. Already, her mind was skipping through the rest of the day as if it knew nothing fruitful will ever come from the squareness of her office. She believed it half-heartedly only because she also believed in the saying that nothing is ever set in stone.

A sharp knock on her cubicle jolted her awake.

“Hey, hi! Can I ask you a favor?” Mrs. Baek’s head peeked through yet again like a cuckoo bird.

“Yeah. Sure, what is it?” She turned her chair to face the woman.

“Okay so I’m leaving early today. Like, right after lunch and I have a bunch of files I need to photocopy but I can’t run down the copy room because I’m trying to meet my quota for the day. Would you mind running down later? Just copy everything for me and put it on my desk before you head home.”

She shrugged. “Yeah of course. Just place them over here on my desk and-”

“Great! Thanks!” Mrs. Baek ran back to her cubicle, the clicking of her heels becoming slower as Momo heard her walking back. When she returned, Momo almost cursed in surprise.

“W-wait, you need all of that?” Momo eyed the foot-tall stack of papers that’ve been dropped, open as the colors drained from her face.

“Hm,” Mrs. Baek stared at the pile for a minute. “Actually, no, you’re right.” She took out exactly three sheets of paper from the hundreds and crumpled them together, shooting them in her trash bin. “There. That’s everything,” she beamed.

“Do we even have this many-”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!” The woman disappeared before she could protest. Or make an attempt to protest. The towering stack of papers stood almost as tall as her when sitting down. She felt her whole earthquake-proof desk cry out in pain from the sheer weight the bulk must’ve had. With a defeated sigh and another nail driven into her head, Momo placed her elbows on her desk and leaned on her hands in prayer to let the day fast forward into night.

 Just get through the calls. Seven more hours...no wait, six because of lunch. Alright, six ain't bad. You can do six.

After a while, she collected herself and straightened up, tapping her wooden rabbit piece for good luck, then breathed in a lung-full before dialing the next number.

"Floor 58, Room 24. Just press the doorbell three times so I’ll know it’s you.” The groggy voice of a woman answered immediately.

“Um, good morning, may I please speak with Miss Im?”

The sound of something shuffling - possibly from a bunch of sheets - came from the other end. Then, a quick nasal huff from a laugh. “I like your voice.”

Momo blinked once. She had, of course, had her fair share of weird prospect replies throughout her career, but not a single one of them complimenting her voice. None of them had ever been compliments about her. And odd as the situation was, she felt a strange inclination to return the compliment because the woman’s voice also sounded nice. Like it came from someone who just woke up and so their voice sounded dry and husky and warm passing through her headset.

Momo caught herself before accidentally spilling. “Thank you. I um...this is Hirai Momo from Peach Cosmetics and I was just wondering if you have a minute to talk about our latest exciting promo deals on Color and Flavour Lip Gloss Trio packs which you can grab right now with a free cosmetic bag of your choice.”

Silence.

“Hm, could’ve sworn you were the pizza girl,” said the woman. Her tone remained casual and nonchalant despite her mistake, which in turn somehow made Momo feel bad that she couldn’t be the pizza girl.

“No,” she said. “No, sorry I uh, I’m just the annoying telemarketer girl,” she gave a mirthless laugh.

“I don’t mind. And you’re far from annoying.”

“Well, you’re definitely the first one to think so.”

“I doubt that,” the woman replied without missing a beat. “Your voice sounds too nice to be annoying.”

Momo felt her cheeks warm up. “Thank you,” she managed to say while keeping her smile from growing too big. And because of the rush she was suddenly feeling, her thoughts slipped. “I like your voice too.”

....

“I-I mean, your voice is nice too. You have a good voice, Miss Im,” she fumbled and slapped her whole palm against her forehead.

A hearty laugh came from the other end. “Thank you, Miss Hirai, but I’m on my third glass of Cabernet and half my face is buried in bed sheets so you’ll have to forgive me if I call you on that bull.”

Momo laughed, and for some reason, tried imagining someone she had no idea looked like in that predicament. “I stand by what I said,” she told her. “I think you have a lovely voice, Miss Im.”

A pause took over and somewhere in the silence she heard a quiet chuckle. “You’re sweet. But as much as I enjoy listening to your sales talk, I think you said something about an exciting promo deal on your Colour and Flavour Lip Gloss?”

Then as if gravity had suddenly been restored, she plummeted back to earth and realized she was still in her cubicle. “Yeah, uh.” She looked up to get a quick time-check. 10:30 A.M. “Would you like to hear more about it?”

“Yes I would.”

The whole script usually took a total of two minutes to recite but she talked slower now. For the first time in her life, she explained everything about a product without giving a damn if they’d buy it or not. Momo didn’t care if she was interested or not. She didn’t care if this call would be her 16th rejection of the day. They could on the products together for all she cared. But she explained everything unhurriedly, because this was the only form of conversation she was allowed to have. And more than anything in the world, she wished at that moment to her wooden rabbit statue that this call would never end.

“So I get a free makeup bag if I avail this?”

“That’s correct,” Momo said as she kept wracking her brains out to think of another promo she could throw in.

“Yeah ok, I’ll take it.”

“Oh…oh, okay great!” A weird sense of disappointment came over the successful sale. ”I’ll just go ahead and confirm your address and we’ll have it there by Saturday for COD.”

“Actually, hold on. Is there a way for me to test the product before I buy it?”

“Um, well we don’t actually deliver test products. It’s not really in our practice to-”

“Are you free later this lunch?”

She blinked a couple of times. “Uh, yes. Yes I think so.”

“Can you get down to 'Lapine et Pêche' by 12? Your building’s down at 5th Ave., right? Peach Cosmetics?”

“I-I uh, yeah. Wait, what? Why?” Momo slid her chair away from the monitor.

“Bring those products and meet me there. I want to test them out,” Miss Im said.

“Wait, hold on,” She gave out a laugh in disbelief. “Hold on, we don’t actually do that. I mean we don’t exactly engage in exploratory meetings for our products and I’m just a telemarketer here. We don’t do meetups just to test it out.” She explained as sound as she could, all the while suppressing her inexplicable desire to actually meet with this woman.

“Well that’s a terrible shame,” said Miss Im, her tone still calm and casual but she could hear a sigh of disappointment in-between the words. “I’ll buy it either way so don’t worry. In any case, I think I’ve held you up long enough so I’ll let you get back to your quota. It was nice talking to you Miss Hirai.”

“Wait,” she called out all of a sudden, catching herself by surprise as if her voice came out in reflex to the woman’s goodbye. She breathed in deep and stared at her tiny rabbit sculpture sitting on top of all the paperwork, then over to the mountain of paper sheets Mrs. Baek left on her earthquake-proof desk. “...I’ll be there at 12.”

It was a quarter after 11 when she procured a sample bag for the cosmetics promo. Momo had asked a staff member where they kept the testing products as no one ever really had any use for them in her department. Getting permission for the meeting was easier than she thought. As it turned out, securing every single possible sale available - via telemarketing, or meetings in this case - was of utmost priority. Basically, screw employee contracts. They would’ve allowed her to juggle knives while doing pirouettes if it meant closing a transaction.

Momo opened the bag to make sure everything was brand new and in it’s best quality. More to do with Miss Im liking what she had brought, and less about securing a sale. At 11:20, she made her fifth visit to the comfort room to check on her hair and attire. She wore black pants and a plain moss green sweater over her white button-up shirt that could definitely use some ironing. Ripping three whole sheets of tissue paper from the dispenser, she soaked them with water and wiped her heels clean before finally heading out. It would take just about twenty minutes to get to Lapine et Pêche by cab considering traffic. On her way to the elevator, she passed by her cubicle and grabbed her rabbit sculpture, placing it into her pocket for good luck. She hailed a cab outside the building’s lobby and checked her hair for the sixth time through the rear-view mirror.

Lunchtime on weekdays starts at 12 and always exactly at 12 when office workers crawl out from the woodwork and spill through the streets to grab a meal or anything that resembles a meal within their budget. Before 12, however, the streets were always quiet like a calm before the storm. Traffic was lax and restaurants were still empty. Momo arrived at Lapine et Pêche at exactly 11:30, somehow forgetting this basic knowledge which then cost her 30 more minutes of waiting alone in an almost empty restaurant. It was her first time eating there and having glanced at the menu, it became clear why only three people were sitting down. The prices shouldn’t have come as a surprise given the place’s elegant aesthetics.

True to its name, the whole place was french-inspired with white marbled columns that aligned with the white wall panels that had exquisite gold carvings. Tall glass windows offered a view of the main road but kept the tables next to them private enough with long velvet curtains tied to each side. A large mural that looked like it was from the renaissance was painted in the center of the ceiling where three chandeliers hung proudly.

She was seated at the furthest corner from the entrance on the last window table. When the spiffy waiter approached, she was quick to inform him that she was waiting for someone before ordering some water which came in a tall crystal glass that weighed heavier than any glass of water she had ever drunk. And it was around 11:50, when she was still busy preoccupying herself with the place’s beautiful interior and glassware, that she suddenly remembered the prices listed on the menu and how much money she had brought with her. She could step out for a bit to look for an ATM, but feared that if she did, Miss Im might suddenly arrive and wonder why she was late in spite of the calm lunchtime traffic. The next option would be to order as minimal as possible without having to paint herself as pitiful. She could probably survive with just garlic bread, she thought. Then just grab a bite elsewhere after this.

A couple more people had arrived thirty minutes past 12. She was on her second glass of water and the waiter had approached again with a polite smile that made her all the more embarrassed not having ordered anything yet. She considered ordering one of the entrées but couldn’t recognize anything because they were all in french except for the salad that costs her entire budget for lunch. Momo glanced at her wrist watch and felt a weird sort of ache in her chest at the thought of being stood up. What if something came up? What if Miss Im fell asleep on her third glass of Cabarnet? She stopped herself before she could assume anything worse; that maybe Miss Im was the type of person who does this to annoying telemarketers. Miss Im wasn’t like that, she thought. She couldn’t explain why she was defending this woman she had just met an hour ago. In all likelihood, anyone drunk enough could pull this sort of prank, but not her, she reassured herself.

Momo leaned back onto the chair and stared outside the window as more and more people with gray office attires filled the streets, carrying briefcases and handbags that all looked like they came from one manufacturer. They scrambled towards every direction, walking with measured steps as if they followed one straight invisible line from point A to B; without stopping; relentless to the point that they all seemed almost robotic. And she was one of them, she thought. Or at least, well on her way to become one. Momo slid her hand into her pocket and brought out her rabbit piece onto the white table, prying her eyes away from the chaos outside.

A harrowing epiphany suddenly hit her. How was it, she wondered, that this whole meetup was only made possible via a call, and yet neither of them bothered to exchange phone numbers before hanging up. What’s worse was the fact that she had her phone number listed before they even met but couldn’t use it now to check where the woman was simply because she left it back at the office. Momo then glanced over to the entrance of the restaurant where more and more people paraded in - looking for someone she had no idea looked like with only a voice to recognize.

And yet with what little clue she had to go by, Momo knew it was her the second their eyes met in-between the far expanse of that glittering hall. Amidst the sea of grey coats and faces; the woman stood in the middle of the passing crowd, unperturbed by anyone, with her red blazer like a burning match that cast everyone aside. She knew it was her and insisted on it with such intensity as if they’ve known each other since time began, and so there was no mistaking it. But this certainty stemmed from a simpler reason. Momo was sure it was her, simply because their gaze never once wavered the second they met. After what seemed like an eternity, the woman smiled and she reflexively waved a hand.

“Hirai Momo?” The woman asked as she stood beside her table. Her voice sounded different from earlier. It had lost its dry huskiness but sounded just as warm and now took on a brighter tone.

“Miss Im?” Momo replied.

“Nayeon’s fine. Just call me Nayeon.” She pulled a chair and sat in front of her. “Is it okay if I call you Momo?”

“Yes. Please.”

Nayeon ran her fingers through her long chestnut hair. A bit disheveled, but in a way suited her. There was silence between them for a while. Momo watched as Nayeon placed both elbows on the table before looking out the window with a pensive look in her eyes. As if something more important was occupying her mind. A waiter pulled her attention back as he placed the menu in front of her. She thanked him but paid the fancy board no mind. Instead, Nayeon sat her chin on both hands that were propped up then stared at Momo with a casual smile on her lips. Something a child might do. Momo found it hard to look back and so she settled for a quick polite smile before pretending to look at the menu once again.

“Well you’re definitely not what I was expecting,” Nayeon said all of a sudden.

“What do you mean?”

“I expected someone more...white-collared. Grey blazer, pencil skirt, briefcase. Maybe a tight updo,” said Nayeon, her easy gaze still fixed on Momo.

She huffed out a laugh that sounded a bit forced. “I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

“No.” Nayeon was quick to answer. “Not at all. I’m glad honestly.” Momo waited for Nayeon to explain but the sentence was eventually left in the air as she finally broke her gaze to look at the menu. “What will you have?”

“Oh, just the salad. And some garlic bread. I already ate a bit before leaving.” She closed the menu and sipped some water.

Nayeon glanced at her. “I’d feel terrible for inviting you all the way down here for a plate of salad and some bread. At least let me treat you to some pasta. And maybe chocolate soufflé?”

Momo couldn’t refuse.

Nayeon waved a hand over to the waiter and ordered a bowl of Pesto Pasta and Chicken Cordon Bleu along with her salad and garlic bread. She ordered the soufflé to be served after they’ve eaten, then asked Momo if she wanted some wine. It was 12:30 in the middle of a Thursday lunch hour so she politely declined.

When the waiter went away, Nayeon once again sat her chin on one hand and Momo wondered then if this air of informality was normal for her. And again, Nayeon was looking at her. Silently, as if assessing something in her that she couldn’t see. Momo fought the urge to fix her hair or straighten her sweater or even wet her drying lips. Anything that might give away how completely self-conscious she was feeling at that moment. But it might’ve seemed weirder to avoid her for too long, so she looked straight. She dared herself to look back into Nayeon’s dark brown eyes that stared at her with a sort of gentleness that hid an innocent curiosity. Her lips were heart-shaped and were curved to a polite smile, and she then wondered what it was for.

“What made you change your mind?” Nayeon asked.

Momo couldn’t bring herself to tell her she just wanted to meet the person with the lovely voice who didn’t find her annoying. Or that she somehow felt bad about not having the capacity to provide her pizza order. “I guess because I’d feel bad if you ordered it without having to try it first.”

“So you’d feel bad if I was disappointed?”

The truth never sounded so embarrassing. “I would.” She said this in context to her marketing pitch, hoping it would mask how much more personal her answer meant. She didn’t know what Nayeon’s smile meant now. Could she have seen right through it? Had her own smile become too obvious?

“You take your job very seriously then,” Nayeon leaned back and let her arms rest on both sides of the chair.

“As much as the next person.” Saying this left a bitter aftertaste in and suddenly she wasn’t sure if what Nayeon had said was a compliment or an insult. Momo didn’t want it to be a compliment. She didn’t want any compliments regarding a job she had no love for.

“Then I imagine this meetup must’ve been painfully inconvenient for you,” Nayeon lowered her head as if to let a hint of embarrassment show. “I’m really sorry about all this.”

“Oh, no please, there’s really no need to be.” Momo leaned forward with both hands raised in concern. “I’ve explained everything to the department head and he’s given me permission for this.” And truthfully, this had been the most convenient break she’s had all week. She’d even throw away her whole list for the day as she couldn’t care less about anything else other than their lunch right now.

“Well that just makes it worse,” Nayeon said but let out a laugh at the end which she found impossibly charming. “In the future, I’d advise you not to entertain the whims of a half-drunken prospect, but thank you. You saved me from my fourth glass of that Cabernet.” She flashed a smile that showed her two front teeth akin to that of a rabbit and Momo couldn’t help but smile back.

“I just hope you took the cab,” she said. When Nayeon wouldn’t answer, Momo glanced at her again to make sure she heard but Nayeon was purposely looking away, a coy smile lining her face. “...You did take the cab, right?”

“I didn’t.”

“The subway?”

“Haven’t been there in a long while.”

“Did you catch a ride with a friend?”

“And what if I said I was friends with myself?”

Momo blinked in disbelief. “...Were you actually driving under influence?”

“No, of course not,” Nayeon dismissed lethargically. “I sobered up before leaving. That’s why I arrived a bit late so you’ll have to forgive that as well,” she said, sounding much less repentant about it than her earlier apology. Momo believed her anyway and saw no point in questioning further.

When their food arrived, Momo waited for Nayeon to start eating first. She stared at her bowl of pasta, unsure if the bowl was too big or if the serving was just meant for small children. She took a  bite and tried not to make a face. It was horrible. She couldn’t remember Pesto being so earthy yet bland at the same time. A second bite didn’t change anything and a third was too much. No wonder they served so little.

“So?” Nayeon called out and when Momo looked up from her bowl, Nayeon was holding back a smile. “How’s the food?”

Momo swallowed hard. “Well...the garlic bread’s nice.”

Nayeon suddenly laughed aloud, turning heads from the table beside them. “I’m sorry, it’s just...I feel like I should’ve warned you but I just couldn’t help myself from wanting to see your reaction.”

Momo stared cluelessly as Nayeon leaned in closer, close enough to catch her perfume that smelled of cedarwood. “Food here’s pretty bad,” she whispered.

She blinked out of her trance. “Wait, then why’d you suggest this place?”

Nayeon reclined back to her seat and Momo almost wished she hadn’t asked. She dabbed with the napkin then looked around as if surveying the interiors of the place, from floor to ceiling. "What do you think of this place?" Nayeon asked.

Momo did a quick once-over of the entire restaurant because she'd already examined it earlier. "It's very fancy. Very french."

"It's too fancy," Nayeon replied. "Too pretentious. Sticks out like a sore thumb in this intersection. The classical design doesn’t help. Just makes it all the more artificial in the middle of all these buildings.”

Momo nodded slowly. “I still don’t get why you chose this place.”

As Nayeon was about to say something, the waiter arrived carrying a tall bottle of wine with a ribbon tied at the center. ‘Château Trotanoy’ was written on the label, made in the year 2004.

“Compliments of the house, Miss Im,” said the waiter.

“Christ, I pop here once in a blue moon and you guys treat me like royalty. You really shouldn’t have,” Nayeon said with a polite and polished smile as she took the bottle. The waiter bowed graciously before leaving.

Momo gave her an inquiring look. “I take it you’re a VIP?”

Nayeon laughed and placed the bottle on the table. “God no. And I have no idea why they keep insisting that I am. I’m an architect for ’s sake, not some politician.”

“Wait…” Momo leaned back as she pieced it together. And with a sudden revelation, she almost shouted, “You built this place?!”

Nayeon took a sip of her water, a slow smile lining her face. “Designed it,” she said. “Although I did have to oversee the construction and all that nonsense. Plus this doesn’t really fit in the residential category. But yes, pretty much.” She said this with a single acknowledging nod and in such a casual tone that fit her whole demeanor. Without an excess of pride, but without a false sense of humility either.

“What firm are you with?”

“The uh, Loner Designs.” She laughed then corrected herself before Momo could comment on the originality of the name. “No, I’m a sole-practitioner. My own imaginary firm, my own designs, my own sweat and blood and tears.”

Hearing this, Momo once again let her gaze roam around the place with a renewed sense of admiration for every little detail she saw. Nayeon seemed to have taken notice of this and said, “Did your perception change? About this place? Knowing now that I built this?”

Nayeon was looking at her again. Intently, as if her answer would weigh heavily for the rest of their lunch together. And before she could answer, she had suddenly caught an underlying hint in the question. Was she actually concerned about her outlook of the place? Or was this to gauge how much difference it made in her opinion, knowing now that this whole whole place was tied to her?

“A bit, yes,” Momo said.

“For better or worse? Please be honest.”

She couldn’t help but be honest. “Better.”

Nayeon smiled softly and looked away, seemingly bashful for a split-second. “You’re one helluva saleswoman.”

Momo wanted to tell her it had nothing to do with sales. Nothing to do with her job. She left her profession in that damned cubicle before leaving, and everything that she had subsequently done was for her own interests. But she couldn’t tell Nayeon, simply because she still couldn’t figure out what the reason behind this was. And she’d have to ask herself again why she wanted to have lunch with a half-drunken woman who liked her voice.

Thinking this, Momo suddenly remembered why they were there in the first place. But bringing up actual sales talk while eating would be crude, so they finished the rest of lunch in silence. She finished her pasta and washed the taste away with water. Nayeon waved the waiter over to ask for the plates to be taken and the chocolate soufflé to be served.

“Now this,” Nayeon pointed with a spoon at the cup of soufflé that had peaked out from the rim, its dark brown top dusted with confectioners sugar. “This, I can recommend.” She let Momo break the soft mould and watched as she ate it.

It was divine. She had to stop herself from letting out a moan but then ultimately failed to stop her eyes from closing. It was smooth and rich but not overly sweet. The outer portion was firmer than the center, which was like a warm creamy icing. When she opened her eyes again, Nayeon’s sly smirk was on her again. Momo collected herself before finally taking the spoon out of .

“So? What’s the verdict? Almost worth going through all that pasta?” Nayeon teased, taking a spoonful for herself.

“Almost,” she replied and Nayeon laughed with covered with one hand.

“Was it that horrible?”

Momo nodded once.

“Well then, at least now we know what not to order next time we’re here,” Nayeon said as she took another spoonful.

Momo was about to ask if she meant that there’s a chance they’d meet again but considered that maybe she meant it as them being two separate individuals who had nothing to do with each other aside from being a seller and a prospect.

“But honestly, I do apologize if I ruined your lunch. You could’ve had um…” Nayeon paused to think, her lips nipping idly at the tip of the spoon. “Well what’s your lunch usually like?”

“Kimbap from the convenience store,” she answered.

“You could’ve had that tasty Kimbap from FamilyMart and saved your taste buds. Instead I brought you here to eat horrible pasta and some boring slices of garlic bread.”

Momo smiled at her. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m glad I tried something different actually.”

Nayeon hummed. “Yes, you told me you don’t usually do these sort of meetings with your prospects. I don’t imagine anyone else had asked you out to lunch for a possible transaction before?”

“You’re the first one.”

“And how’s everything so far?” Nayeon asked, her lips curved to a subtle smile.

There hadn’t been any transactions between them yet. Not a word or any mentions from either of them why they were both there in the first place. All this had been was a casual lunch in a fancy restaurant between two strangers. And knowing this, she heard the question differently, then felt her cheeks warm up. “It’s been wonderful,” Momo answered.

Nayeon gave her an amused look, seemingly glad that Momo caught on to what she was truly asking. When they’d finished everything, Nayeon waved the waiter once more to clear up their table. “Is that yours?” Nayeon noticed her wooden rabbit piece that she’d forgotten on the table.

“Oh, yes. Almost forgot.”

Momo was about to tuck it back into her pocket when Nayeon held out a hand. “May I see?”

She didn’t like showing off her work to other people. It made her too self-conscious and oftentimes people don’t recognize what the piece even was and then they’d just laugh it off when they find out. And although she knew Nayeon wasn’t the type, her fingers froze for a second before handing it over.

Nayeon held it on her open palm under the light of the window and let her other hand turn and move it around with a refined quality of motion as if handling an expensive piece of jewelry. Momo wasn’t used to seeing this and felt even more anxious because she knew it probably wasn’t even worth that much to fuss over.

“You made this?” Nayeon asked, still examining the piece.

Momo swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s an old piece. I made it when I was fifteen.”

“Well that makes it even more impressive. I take it you’ve made others?”

“Yes. They’re at my apartment.”

Nayeon hummed. “Aspen, right?”

She nodded.

“I’m guessing this one’s a bit more special, getting to tag along with you.”

“It’s one of my first few pieces,” she said, but nothing more because it would take too long to explain.

Nayeon held it out back to her. “Would love for a chance to see the others,” she said and Momo felt the tips of Nayeon’s fingers brush lightly across her palm with a tingling charge of electricity as she returned the rabbit.

Right then and there, Momo was about to ask her if she wanted to. Wanted to invite her over with such a compelling urge that managed to light her hopes up that Nayeon would also accept if she did. She wanted to show her everything and let her hold each piece as delicately as she did earlier. She didn’t want to go back to work. And everything that awaited her after lunch seemed dreadfully bleak and depressing.

But before she could ask, Nayeon brought it up. “Did you bring the items?”

Momo was slow to answer. “Yes. Yes they’re right here.” Reluctantly, she brought out the make-up bag and placed it on the table. It was much smaller than her handbag but seemed much more intrusive in the middle of the table. She stared at it with disdain like the stack of paperwork Mrs. Baek left at her cubicle; a glaring reminder of what this whole lunch was all about.   

"I don’t suppose you brought a mirror with you? A phone’s just too hard to angle and the lighting won’t do it any good,” said Nayeon.
 

With all her fuss about looking presentable earlier before she left, it had slipped her to bring one, and despite not caring how badly it reflected on her professionalism, Momo was more concerned about the possibility that Nayeon would find this meeting utterly pointless. “...I forgot to bring one. I’m so sorry, I-...I can buy a small one right now if I head outside. I’ll be quick. There’s this trinket store a couple of blocks-”

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Nayeon raised her hand. “There’s no need to buy one, okay? It’s fine, please.”

But she was right. The lighting was dim inside and the only reliable source was a sliver coming through the window beside them. She might’ve suggested the mirror in the women’s comfort room but that’d hardly be an appropriate place to try all of these products.

Nayeon crossed her arms on top of the table then leaned in slightly. “If you have the time, would it be alright if you accompany me back to my unit?”

“...I’m sorry?”

“I mean I have a mirror there. Large enough to be reliable at least. It’d only take a couple of minutes and my place is just around the corner.” Nayeon smiled at her and she didn’t know what it meant. It looked polite and she knew Nayeon meant for it to be polite, so there’s no reason to assume it was anything else.

But then suddenly, all the possible solutions her brain had wracked up to solve the issue dissipated into thin air. Suddenly, this had become the best and only solution. To accompany Nayeon back to her unit because that’s the most effective way to solve the problem. And so she’d have no reason to refuse. This was all still part of her job after all. If they wanted her to juggle with knives just to secure this transaction, who was she to refuse? And if for some reason they didn’t, well then ‘em. She’d go along anyway.

Momo returned the smile, polite but with a curious sort of excitement she couldn’t quite contain. “Yes. I’d be happy to.”

It had slipped her mind throughout their lunch how affluent Nayeon must be to afford everything they’ve ordered. Momo didn’t see how much was in the receipt nor did she attempt to stoop so low as to ask about it, but she estimated it was worth about one whole week of her lunch money. It bothered her for a while but figured it would just annoy Nayeon if she insisted they split the bill. Momo’s assumption about her was only cemented when Nayeon opened the door to a black Maserati Ghibli parked just outside the restaurant. She froze in front of the passenger door, feeling suddenly nervous that she might break or scratch something. Nayeon called out from inside then opened the door for her.

It smelled of new leather and something aseptic, but not the nauseating kind in hospitals. It was sweeter, and more refined like a glass of good scotch.

“Comfortable?” Nayeon asked before starting the engine.

Momo nodded and noticed Nayeon’s gaze was lingering on her. She gave her a questioning look but Nayeon simply answered with a quick smile before driving off into the avenue. It was 1:30 and the hordes of office goers continued their hunt for lunch, pacing steadily in their fixed motions. Traffic was as expected. They both remained silent inside the car and at some point Momo had begun to notice the muted hum of the air conditioning.

“Where do you live?” Nayeon broke the spell as they waited on a red light.

Momo told her where her apartment was, mentioning the old theater as if it was a well-known landmark.

“Wait, isn’t that the one that shows those italian movies?”

“Yeah. You know about it?”

“I have a friend who lives around that area. I always see it whenever I pass by.”

The simple fact that Nayeon knew about one of her favorite places in the city filled her with a giddy joy. The kind that fills someone after finding out the person they liked had something in common with them. But then did that mean that she liked Nayeon? In what way? Was it something to be concerned about?

“So your apartment’s the one next to it right?” Nayeon asked, her head leaning on one hand that was propped against the door.

“Yes. The cream-coloured building with a green metal fence,” she answered, wondering if Nayeon would come visit someday to look at her other pieces. An urge to tell her what floor her room was and what room number she rented surfaced for a while but she figured telling her would be presumptuous.

The traffic light turned green and they turned left, leaving the main boulevard and into a more upscale part of the city with glass condo units and high-end boutiques that lined neatly with the wide sidewalk. Midway along the road, Momo spotted an actual park hidden behind the rows of skyscrapers as if they wanted to make it exclusive for this part of the neighbourhood. Nayeon slowed down just after passing the park then turned towards a tall glass-covered building with an underground parking. She parked in slot number 9 and they both made their way to the elevator. The elevator leading to the lobby was different from the one leading up to all the residential floors. With 58 floors to go, Momo had ample time to admire the exquisite carvings that adorned the panels of the elevator, all the while keeping the reality that she was actually going up to Nayeon’s unit at bay.

“Exactly what time are you needed back at your office?” Nayeon asked, fixing her hair on the elevator mirror.

“Oh um, just any. I mean they won’t mind.” She looked over Nayeon’s shoulder from behind as their eyes met in the mirror and for some reason, Momo found it hard to look away this time.

“No? Not even for the whole afternoon?” Nayeon asked, still staring back as a hint of a mischief played at her lips.

“No.” Momo shook her head. And while still completely entranced by her steely gaze, the next words that flowed out of her lips came in a hushed tone. “Not even for the whole day.”

There was a palpable silence that filled the four corners of the elevator. She didn’t know what floor they were at and she couldn’t be bothered to check. As if to turn the tables, Momo dared Nayeon not to look away. A strange sort of confidence rose up from having nothing more to lose now. She was throwing her cards on the table; her work forgotten and her hesitation buried. The moment now felt like crossing a line that separated two sides she hasn’t figured out what yet. Prospect and seller? Professionalism and complaisance? Momo wondered then what she was hoping for. What she was hoping to happen by throwing these things away - shrugging off these responsibilities that confined her in a box; to follow this alluring enigma who was staring back at her with just as much curiosity in her eyes.

Nayeon was the first to look away. “You don’t like your job very much, do you?”

Momo blinked and huffed out a laugh. “Uh, no. Not really, no. Is it that obvious?”

“I’m sorry if this comes out a bit rude but, your sales pitch wasn’t exactly the most convincing,” Nayeon laughed, turning to face her as she leaned back onto the glass panel, her eyes quickly scanning her from top to bottom.

“Does that mean you’re someone so easily convinced then?” Momo gave a challenging smirk.

“No, believe it or not.”

“Now see, that doesn’t add up. You just said my sales talk wasn’t convincing.”

“It wasn’t.”

Momo gave a confused look. “But you’re still willing to buy?”

“Sales talk isn’t everything,” said Nayeon. “As luck would have it, I’ve been thinking what to give as a birthday present for a friend.”

Momo nodded slowly and let her gaze drop to the floor, an odd twinge of disappointment suddenly hanging over her knowing Nayeon won’t personally use the products she brought.

“That, and I like your voice,” Nayeon added as the elevator dinged at the 43rd floor. Before Momo had any time to react, Nayeon was already walking out of the elevator. She followed closely behind into a white corridor with marbled floors and a red carpet that lined its length. Nayeon opened the door to room number 24, and her jaw almost dropped.

Immediately, Momo’s gaze focused on the view from outside as wide glass panels lined the expanse of the unit’s living room. She took off her shoes on the recessed entrance and took a step up into the white oak hardwood that made up the rest of the area. The whole room spanned the length of about two school buses with its walls punctured with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. A long sleek sofa faced a wide TV screen that was hung above a wide stone pillar at the center of the living room. On the opposite side was the dining area with a varnished table that seats eight. The ceiling was higher than expected. At least for a condo unit. Every space or so, there were potted plants on the floor and modern paintings decorating the white walls.

“Make yourself at home,” Nayeon smiled and made a beeline towards a room at the right end of the unit. Even though Momo didn’t want the awkward formalities of a transaction between them, she couldn’t help but feel conscious all of a sudden. She sat herself at the dining area, placed both hands neatly on her lap and faced the panoramic view of the outside cityscape. This was the highest view she’s had of the city. Not even her office was this high and even if it was, all she’d ever see would be the four walls of her cubicle. Momo stared at everything outside. The outlines of skyscrapers that touched the blue sky, the white clouds that seemed closer than ever.

“That dining chair is impossibly rigid. Come sit with me,” Nayeon called out, plopping down on the long black sofa. Momo got up and followed, sitting down more primly as she placed the products on the low coffee table. Nayeon placed something square and wooden beside the makeup bag. She slid and folded the square panels open like a large sheet of paper to reveal a large table mirror.

“So which one first?” Nayeon asked as she folded her legs up onto the sofa.

Momo told her to try the ‘Peach - Timeless Pink’ first as it outsold the other two last year. And because she still felt the need to act like a hardworking saleswoman, she went on her usual sales chatter, talking about the product’s overall gloss and tint quality and how it plumps the lips with its shade. “The scent also hints of peach; sweet and fruity,” Momo said as she watched Nayeon slowly apply it on her lips.

Nayeon smacked her lips, checking every angle of it in the mirror. “Yeah, I actually smell it a bit. Though I’m worried it might be a bit too strong,” she said, then turned to face Momo. “Can you smell it from there?”

“Uh, no. Not really.”

Nayeon leaned in closer and her heart leapt for miles.

“How about now?”

“N-no.” Momo shook her head. “Still nothing.”

And so Nayeon leaned in closer, close enough that she needed to prop herself up with a hand on the cushion. “Still nothing?” Nayeon asked again, her eyes calmly fixed on her, unblinking as her glistening lips remained slightly parted.

Momo swallowed hard and she was sure Nayeon had noticed it. Then an outrageous idea came to her; what if she said no again? What if she lied and told Nayeon she was still lightyears away to notice the sweetness fluttering from her lips. What if she told her to come closer still? Will Nayeon do it?

“Yeah. It’s uh, it’s more prominent now,” Momo conceded.

Nayeon leaned back slowly. “Hm, was hoping it was less noticeable.”

It was starting to frustrate her at that point. These little clues Nayeon seemed to drop in front of her and her inability to stop herself from thinking too much about them. To stop herself from reading too much into every little word and pause and glance. At that point, she was beyond unprofessional.

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asked and Momo only noticed now that she’d been looking at her for quite some time.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.”

“If it’s about your sales then you shouldn’t worry. I’ll still buy it.”

Momo couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, um, no. I uh, I don’t really care that much about my sales.”

Nayeon glanced at her, taking a pause from wiping her lips with tissue. "I know you don’t like your job very much, but for someone who went through all this trouble, I still find it a bit hard to believe that you don’t care about selling anything to me."

Momo eased onto the soft cushions. "They're the ones who care about it. Not me." She breathed in deep, the reality of her job hitting once again. "Not anymore at least."

She could see Nayeon looking at her from the corner of her eyes. After a long pause, Nayeon placed the bottle of lip gloss on the table, then settled back with her on the couch. "And why don’t you care about it anymore?"

Momo couldn't tell if Nayeon really had no idea what the nature of her work was or if she was just reserving judgement. She hesitated to tell her about it, afraid that Nayeon would kick her out because who in the world would want to buy from an unmotivated telemarketer who gets invited to a home just to whine about her job.

"Just forget about the whole buyer-seller etiquette for a moment," said Nayeon. "Forget that I'm a prospect and imagine I'm a half-drunk stranger who just likes talking to people with lovely voices," she smiled and leaned her head on one hand that was propped up by the back cushion.

Momo laughed. "I thought you sobered up?"

“I said imagine.”

She nodded slowly in doubt but found it hard to stop smiling. What Nayeon had said melted something in her and she felt the wall between them crumble down in an instant. To forget who they were at that moment seemed such an enchanting proposal and it took her aback at how casual Nayeon had offered it; oblivious to the fact that she just solved her biggest dilemma of the day. To know that Nayeon was ready to throw their roles aside.

Momo let herself relax, sinking further into the softness of the cushions, then started with a shrug. “I don’t mean to about it too much, but I guess I’ve fallen into one of those premature mid-life crisis sort of problem.”

Nayeon laughed. “There's a reason why they call it 'mid-life'. You're still young so I'm not sure how much of a crisis it is if age and time are what you're worried about. But go ahead, you want to pursue something else?”

She shrugged, turning her gaze out into the city. "I'm not even sure what else is out there for me. The only other thing I can see myself doing is working at a woodshop, carving hundreds of identical Santa Claus mini statues or whatever woodland creature was in season."

"Both very reputable professions. But there are more choices in line with wood carving you know."

"Yeah but they'd only take people with considerable experience. And maybe some fresh-grad for an internship. I’m neither.”

“Maybe not yet, no. But like I said, you’re still young. It doesn’t have to be a crisis just yet.”

Momo didn’t want to trouble her with the drab musings of an indecisive telemarketer so she kept silent, staring at the empty expanse out the window.

“Hey,” Nayeon called out with a more serious tone in her voice. “Take it from me. From just the tiny piece you showed me, you have real talent for it. I’ve been working with wood for a long time in my line of work and I’ve seen plenty of sculpted and carved pieces for different furnishings. I know we don’t have the same eye for it but take my word if you need a vote for pursuing that path.”

She wasn’t sure what it was that compelled her to believe it. Maybe it was Nayeon’s tone and the level of certainty with which she delivered it, sounding more sure about her future than she had ever been for the past few years. Or maybe because Nayeon’s word weighed significantly in terms of her profession and experience in the field. Maybe even because of how Nayeon’s eyes leveled to meet hers with a stern yet encouraging gaze that must’ve seen something inside her that she couldn’t.

And by looking right back at those dark hazel eyes in the charged silence between them, Momo searched for it. What this woman - whom she had met just a few hours ago - could’ve possibly seen in someone like her.

The spell was broken with a jolting ring of the doorbell. Momo sat up straight and cleared as well as her mind. Nayeon excused herself as she got up to open the door.

“Forget something?” Nayeon’s faint voice came from the entrance.

“My capris. Have you seen them?” A blonde woman who could pass as a haute couture  model strode right in, wearing a sharp white blazer over a cool grey top that had a plunging neckline. Her matching white slacks fit her perfectly and the gold necklace made her seem ready to walk a runway. “They canceled the meeting this evening so I’m free for dinner if you-” She stopped and did a double-take on Momo, seemingly just as surprised as she was. “Oh hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you earlier.”

Momo stood up abruptly and greeted her with a deep bow like how a normal sales woman would.

Nayeon walked past the woman and stood between them. “Miss Hirai Momo, from Peach Cosmetics,” Nayeon proclaimed with an outstretched hand and Momo couldn’t help but shrink to be introduced like that.

“Peach Cosmetics?” The woman gave Nayeon a quizzical look.

“She’s a telemarketer. I asked her out for lunch so I could test their products.”

The woman glanced over the table where the flask of lip gloss was placed. “I didn’t know you use lip gloss.”

“I don’t. It’s your birthday gift. Surprise.” Nayeon said the whole line with a deadpan tone.

She leaned in over to Nayeon and whispered, effectively putting up an impossibly high wall between them and Momo. “You know I don’t use lip gloss either,” Momo heard her say.

“Wha-...I thought you said you did? And you were looking for one the other night.”

“Because I wanted to see if it would compliment my dress. And it didn’t so I didn’t even need one in the end anyway.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Nayeon finally let out a sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll think of a different gift.”

The woman chuckled. “You really don’t have to.” She turned to face Momo as if just remembering now that she was there with them. With a charming smile, she said, “I’m just here to grab something. Please, don’t mind me.”

And before Momo could even reply, the woman strode towards the room where Nayeon got the mirror.

“Hey I ordered some pizza, you want any?” Nayeon shouted out to the woman and Momo felt herself shrink even lower and she wondered if at some point she’d just fade out slowly from existence.

“I just ate,” the woman shouted back. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, just need to Skype with a client this evening.”

“Hey by the way, have you called him yet?”

There was a pause and Momo caught Nayeon breathing out a sigh, her gaze cast down on the floor. “No. No, not yet,” Nayeon replied in a hushed tone as if she didn’t care now if the blonde woman heard it.

The woman seemed to have caught it anyway and peeked out the room. “Well he’s going to want you to soon. So...better give him an update.”

“Yeah I know,” Nayeon replied with a huff. “I’ll call him this afternoon.”

At some point in their conversation, the words had begun to blur out in her ears. Momo didn’t know whether to sit back down or remain standing. To stay, or leave now with what little dignity she had left. To leave now and save her image of this place and her time together with Nayeon unblemished. To leave now because their short pretend-play was over and they had transformed back to being a buyer and a seller. To leave now because an odd ache in her chest had suddenly hit like a hammer as she watched Nayeon turn her back and walk away from her.

To leave now.

Just leave.

Her ears were still ringing in her head and she couldn’t make out most of what she had said to Nayeon before she left. Momo remembered telling her to keep the products. To take it as a gift for treating her to lunch. She remembered Nayeon’s eyes that stared back, confused and worried altogether. She remembered her voice asking her why she had to leave all of a sudden. And she remembered asking herself the very same question as she rode off in a cab back to her office.

It was like waking up in cold sweat from a dream that had turned into a nightmare. When she woke up, what greeted her was even scarier. It was the sudden impact of crashing back into reality where she was just a telemarketer, called by an odd customer who was interested in testing out the products before buying. And somehow she had masked it with her romanticism and delusions of escaping the cold harsh walls of her cubicle. To escape the stack of papers, the stoic faces, the eternal hum of a dead line. Momo took Nayeon’s kindness and her drunk words to mould this shape of a person in her head that would take her away from everything. But when the veil was pulled out, withdrawal hit her harder than she’d ever anticipated. She’d woken up in a room she couldn’t recognize and was met with a face she didn’t know.

Im Nayeon - prospect number 22; her 7th sale of the day.

It was around 3:30 when she arrived back at the office. Momo rode up to her floor and made a beeline for her cubicle, taking the tall stack of papers that Mrs. Baek left into the copy room. In a way, the constant rhythm of her motions helped occupy her mind so the chore wasn’t all bad. When every single sheet of paper had been photocopied, she took the liberty of arranging them, checking if the page numbers were in order and throwing out duplicates. Momo busied herself with anything. Cleaning her desk, sweeping her area, filling out paperworks. Anything but dialing up another prospect. She’s had enough for the day and if her job allowed it, she’s had enough for a week. No more prospects, no more meetups, she told herself.

Sana sent her a message in the middle of her desk decluttering. She asked Momo if she wanted to tag along this coming Saturday with her and Tzuyu to some spa that she’d won coupons for. When Momo declined, her phone immediately rang.

“Why not? You busy?”

“No. No, I uh, just wanted to rest this weekend.” She sat on the swivel chair and let out an unexpected sigh.

“Spa day is a type of rest treatment. Like, a much more effective type of rest. Physically and mentally. Maybe spiritually? Not sure but they promote that , right?”

“Not this week for me. Sorry,” she said, consciously trying her best not to sound too glum.

Sana gave out a long tired sigh. “Okay spill. What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“What happened? What’s the problem? Mrs. Baek giving you again?”

“What? No. No it’s nothing.”

“Aha. You said ‘it’, so there is something. See? I could sense your distress signal earlier. That’s why I called. Now spill.”

Momo laughed despite herself. “You called because you wanted me to third-wheel on your date, Sana. Pretty sure you’re the one who wants me distressed.”

Sana scoffed. “Well pardon moi for giving you an extra coupon for a free Swedish massage. And that’s why I’m giving it to you, duh? Because you’re in distress. Now shut up and tell me what’s wrong so I can bug you to come this Sat.”

Momo slouched on her desk, gaze lingering on her rabbit piece. “I’m fine. Just a bit stressed from work as usual.”

“Okay well, that’s not usual. Don’t say it’s ‘usual’ like it’s the most normal thing to feel while working. It’s not supposed to be stressful in the first place.”

“Yeah I just effed up with an important transaction. Our head got mad and told me off,” she lied. A pause lingered and Momo wondered if she raised suspicion.

“Hm...well him I guess. But are you sure that's it though?"

Momo nodded to herself. "Yup. That's it."

"Aaand you're still a no for 'Spaturday'?"

"Maybe next time, Sana."

"Not sure when the next free Swedish spa coupon will land on my lap but fine," Sana groaned. “Real talk though, you can talk to me okay? I don’t know why I still have to remind you of this but I will. You can tell me anything, Momo.” She said this with a tender voice Momo had rarely heard and it made her feel worse for lying.

“I know. Thanks.”

There was no point in telling her about Nayeon. It was over, and thinking about it just made her feel stupid. It was like being 8 again, when daydreams were real and she could live in her fantasy for a day before snapping out of it. Before she’s suddenly 28 again with a job that pays and that’s all that ever mattered. With a sigh, Momo placed the small rabbit piece back onto the stack of papers. This is where it belongs, she thought.

This is where it belongs.

On the way home, she stopped at FamilyMart to buy packed kimbap and some ingredients for cooking pesto pasta. Momo threw in five cans of beer in her attempt to drown out what had been left of her earlier escapade. She hailed a cab and stared out its window as they drove off into the evening where the people with grey suits and dresses spilled out from their concrete boxes. They’d buy cold meals from convenience stores. They’d turn down spa invites because they were too tired from work. Some of them would get pushed around by their co-workers and they wouldn’t bat an eye. A few might experience a fateful encounter with someone they’d think was amazing simply because they didn’t belong in the same box as them. And they’d worship them in a dream that would crumble by the end of the day.

Momo clutched her moss green sweater, the only thing keeping her from becoming one of them.

The cab stopped in front of the theater because she enjoyed the short walk home. They were still playing the movie from last week, “La Dolce Vita”. She could hear the broken speakers from outside playing its theme with the flute and the piano. Maybe she’ll catch whatever was playing here on Saturday, she thought.

As she neared her apartment, a familiar car model with the same familiar color was parked beside the sidewalk underneath a budding Gingko tree. A cool evening breeze from last year’s Winter shook the branches and her gaze followed until it landed back down on a woman she had seen once in a dream; her back against the car, hair swaying with the wind and a half-smoked cigarette glowing in-between her fingers.

“Wha-...what are you-...how did you find me?”

“Cream-colored building with the green fence beside the old italian movie theater. Hard to forget.” Nayeon approached and stood in front of her once again, the faint glow of sunset against her back and a warm familiar smile lining her lips. 

Momo wondered then if she was still dreaming.