Jimin plows like there’s no tomorrow, even Yeji looks at her curiously as she plows like a madman. Maybe Jimin just got something in her mind, Yeji thought, she always does more work when there’s more to think about. They both work in a silent tandem, Yeji plows the street with the truck and Jimin cleans the natural debris and snow off the pedestrian sidewalk with a snow pusher. 

Jimin works so hard she eventually peeled off her coat due to overwhelming body heat even when it’s almost minus degrees Celsius and pushed the snow to the ends of every sidewalk in that residence. Yeji lost sight of her multiple times, she makes the mental note to remind Jimin that they only needed to clean one street tonight, but that won’t result in anything. Jimin would still work hard no matter what.

Jimin doesn’t even realize that Yeji has done all her work, sitting down on the pavement eating a sandwich Minju probably made her, while waiting for Jimin to return after pushing snow off another sidewalk. When Yeji catches sight of Jimin, she smiles as she beckons her friend over.

Yeji offers the other triangular half of her sandwich, to which Jimin politely refuses. The latter sits next to her best friend, and doesn't care if the wet pavement dampens her slacks. She needs a breather. The air is piercing cold, but hot sweat flows from her temple to her jawline.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yeji calmly questions, that coy smile still hanging on her lips, cheeks puffy as she takes another bite into her sandwich.

Jimin opts to not answer, still panting heavily. The freezing air has already caught up to her, she reaches for her coat to cover her bare arms from the frost. The hair that escaped from the tight grips of her hair tie is all over the place, sticking to her face like adhesive labels.

Yeji swallows the food in (God bless her, Jimin hates talking to people with mouths full of chewed food) before answering herself the question she asked, “Another existential crisis?”

Jimin chuckles, of course Yeji would know how to break the ice (no double pun intended) in fraught situations, “Well, if you put it that way.”

Yeji sinks in relief at the sound of Jimin’s chuckles, at least she made her friend smile just a tad. 

It’s not a secret to Jimin’s three friends that she has this ceaseless insecurity about herself, how she feels out of place in a family of VIPs. Yeji possibly doesn’t know more than Aeri does, but she knows and feels just enough to know that her friend is still struggling. Maybe because a thing or two.

“Your sister called earlier,” Yeji tells Jimin, slightly clapping her hands to dust the breadcrumbs off her hands. She stands up to throw away the plastic container that was once filled with PB&J, “your coat was vibrating so I took a peek, your sister’s name was on it.”

Jimin fetches her phone from her coat pocket, and the screen flashes a notification of two missed calls from Jeongyeon, her sister. She stares at the screen monotonously, only averting her gaze for a fleeting moment at Yeji when she announces she’s going home. 

Still with small pants, she takes a deep breath before calling her sister back. The beeping tune of voice call vibrates in the air briefly before Jimin puts her phone on her ear. Two rings later, Jeongyeon answers. 

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling a hundred times,” Jimin rolls her eyes at how hyperbole her sister is, “you literally called like, twice.” Not another pun intended. 

“Still! You should’ve answered,” Jimin can imagine the exaggerated pout Jeongyeon would display every time Jimin fails to answer a call, throwing a mini fit at her younger sister. 

“I was plowing, if you don’t mind,” Jimin answers rather calmly with chattering teeth, the cold has now gotten to her. She presses the speaker mode of the call so that she can wear her coat back whilst still listening to her sister yapping. 

“You should slow down, you know,” the tone of Jeongyeon’s voice changes rather drastically, she went from sounding like an exasperated child to a calm adult. How comical of her. Jeongyeon continues again, “The snow isn’t going anywhere.”

Jimin replies with snark, “You know, the point of plowing is to move the snow somewhere so people can use the streets and sidewalks again.”

“That’s not what I meant, smartass,” Jimin laughs at the imagination of Jeongyeon rolling her eyes so hard she claims a headache, “Fine, let me rephrase that.”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

Jimin stops laughing in an instant, tongue caught in a twisted position. She stares at the distant view, the pavement opposite of her. She’s convinced that Jeongyeon feels the shift of the mood, she hears her sister clearing before continuing her mini monologue. 

“You’ve done so much Jimin,” the sisterly tone is there, Jimin can even feel the comfort Jeongyeon offers with widespread arms every time she goes home in the air. A tear finds its way down her cheek, creating a single stream that invites the frost to bite her soft features, “It’s time to come home.”

Jimin in the cold air, harsh breaths coursing through her lungs and body. She tries to hide the sounds of gentle weeps from her sister. She cannot falter.

“I haven’t done enough,” Jimin tries and cracks her voice in the end, she feels as if a barrage of unspoken feelings are threatening to erupt out of her loose tongue. 

Jeongyeon isn’t having any of it, “you have, Jimin,” she reassures. 

Jimin feels like stepping on her phone, she stands abruptly as she paces on the sidewalk. Who is she to tell her that the petty job she does every day could amount to what Jeongyeon and their parents do? A lifetime of Jimin’s occupation could never live up to an hour of Jeongyeon’s noble profession and their parents’.

“You don’t get to tell me that, Jeong,” Jimin almost screams at her phone, she hates how her family intentionally stoops lower so Jimin would feel welcomed. She doesn’t deserve that. 

“Okay fine,” Jeongyeon’s voice resonates again, “but at least come home for New Year’s, Ji.”

“You’ve worked hard enough so far,” Jeongyeon continues again, “surely you deserve to see your family again.”

Jimin stares at her phone on the pavement from a standing distance, one hand massaging her temple to calm the growing migraine. She knows her answer would just aggravate Jeongyeon more. 

“If you say you have work on New Year’s, I swear to God, Ji.”

See? Happens every time. Jimin sits back down and turns off the speaker mode as she brings her phone close to her ear. 

“I’ll try to come over on New Year’s day,” Jimin offers Jeongyeon, “I have a shift on the Eve but I’ll go as soon as I can.”

When Jimin hears another hyperbolic sigh from her sister, she feels relieved as well. At least Jeongyeon accepts that lame bargain. After another string of conversation regarding her substitute teacher thing and Jeongyeon’s latest nosy patient in the hospital, they said their goodbyes. 

“Get some rest, Ji. You deserve it. I love you, bye.”

Jimin mutters a soft reply to her sister before hanging up the call.

The cold wind blows through her hair, but not through the intricate web of thoughts disheveled in her brain. To Jimin, even reassurances from her parents does not ease her mind. It haunts her instead, like a dreadful reminder of what she is and what her family are. In a world of perfection, she’s mediocre. In a family of architects, lecturers and doctors, she’s a substitute and a snow plower. She is the antithesis of her own family. 

Jimin holds her head in her hands, and in her head she imagines that this is the spitting image of Minjeong holding her heart in her hands. Minjeong’s heart isn’t in hers however, she’s left with her own head filled with overflowing rivers of ideas that cannot be dealt with by anyone but herself. Meanwhile, Minjeong’s heart awaits another pair of warm hands from Australia to come pick it up and continue where they left off. Jimin thinks