It was like a dream. As I walked up towards the tall, almost glimmering building, I felt my breath catch in my throat. As melodramatic as I realized it was, the sight of the letter K, written in a very stylized cursive, was enough to make me emotional. It was finally time for me to be interviewed for the job I had wanted since... Forever, I suppose.

“K Magazine,” I sighed to myself. It was the height of fashion and class; it was known internationally for leading trends across the world. I knew, of course, that that meant there was no room for error. Then again, fashion was not my area of expertise, but rather, my passion was photography. And this was were the best worked.

As I walked through the impeccably clean glass doors, it truly felt like the gateway to my dreams.

The man was frowning, his dark eyebrows knitting together as though resting on the rectangular frames of his glasses. One of his hands was holding my resume while the other, which had been lying limply on the mahogany desk just moments ago, was now clenched into a fist, holding up his chin. He looked as though he was deep in thought.

What is it? Why is he frowning? I knew I shouldn’t have listed knitting as a hobby. What about that says fresh and fun? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Or maybe he doesn’t even care about my hobbies? I mean, why wou─

“This resume is very… eclectic,” he said, interrupting my thought process.

"I hope you mean that in a good way, Sir," I said optimistically.

He raised his eyes pointedly off the paper, giving me a blank stare.

"The position in question was originally meant to begin right away," he continued, leaving my comment unaddressed. God, I don't think his voice could be any more monotone. "However, I believe that you will need a sort of... Er...," He hesitated. "Transition period."

I resisted the urge to quizzically raise an eyebrow. Instead, I waited (somewhat) patiently for him to continue.

And he did.

"Before giving you any major tasks, I would like to assign you to a temporary partner or mentor, if you will, to guide you as join our magazine company."

I repeated his words in my head, trying to fully understand what he was saying; I got the job! Well... With a few minor adjustments to my perfect plan to success. Ideally, I would have been able to simply join the team and begin working, but sensing this was the best offer I was likely to get from the man, I allowed my face to break into a questionably authentic smile. "That sounds perfect sir."

♪ “I feel good! (Dun na nun na)

I knew that I would now. (Dun na nun na)

I feel nice! (Dun na nun na)

Like sugar and spice. (Dun na nun na)” ♫

I strolled down the crowded city streets, unable to contain my pure elation. How long had I wanted to become a photographer for a fashion magazine? For K Magazine? Since before I knew how babies were made, since before I realized what the F in OMFG meant, since before I was tall enough to see out my bedroom window, since before...

Oh never mind; it was just a long, long time ago.

As I rounded the corner of the sidewalk, I did a little skip and turned up the volume on my iPod. Boy, James Brown really does make amazing feel-good music.

“So good! So good! I got you!”

The music stopped abruptly as I felt my iPod fall from my hand, my earphones being yanked out of my ears with it. I realized that in my happiness, I had become so distracted that I had walked right into a poor stranger. Looking up from the ground as I picked up my iPod, I saw that the person I had bumped into was not just a stranger, but a very tall, well-dressed one at that.

“Uh, I’m very sorry,” I said, bowing apologetically to him. I suddenly wondered if he had seen the little skip I had done when walking around the corner of the street. I hoped not.

“It’s fine,” he answered, his voice laced with amusement. “I love that song.”

I sheepishly realized that the music had been on so loud that, even now, I could hear the music coming from the earphones.

"James Brown, right?"

I nodded, barely able to meet his eye. His smile was so sparkly, glistening like a freaking skating rink. How are teeth that white?

"I'm sorry for crashing into you," I apologized, again. "I obviously wasn't paying attention."

"Really, don't worry about it," He assured me. "Have a good day." With another blinding smile, he turned and continued off wherever he was going.

"You too!" I called, almost as though it was an afterthought.

Huh. Since when were young people actually nice?

"Uh... I don't know... 6'4"," I shrugged.

Sekyung looked at me like I was as dumb as a post. "How can you not remember how tall he was?"

Shamefully, when I met my best friend for coffee that afternoon, I acted like a 12 year-old girl and spilled about my chance encounter with the polite unnamed man. That is, all 20 seconds of our interaction.

"It's not that I don't remember, I just couldn't tell. It's not like I have a PHD in estimating the height of handsome men," I retorted.

She sighed, taking another sip of her coffee and staring at the ceiling, obviously somewhere else. "Now that would be an amazing job."

"Agreed."

"Why were you even downtown anyways?" She asked, a mildly confused expression forming across her small features.

Rigghhhht. In the midst of my juvenile storytelling, I had forgotten to tell her about the job.

"Oh yeah, I was at that interview with K Magazine." I tried to sound nonchalant.

But Sekyung wasn't buying it.

She smacked my arm that had been resting peacefully on the table, minding its own business. "Why didn't you say something?! How did it go?"

Taking a deep breath, I told her what had happened at the interview, only to be met with ear-piercing squeals.

"Sujin!" She practically shrieked. "You've been wanting this since... Forever."

I nodded. "Uh huh. Now I just have to not blow it."

"Your photography skills are amazing," she complimented me. "I would be more worried about embarrassing yourself in front of all those beautiful male models."

Crap. I actually hadn't even considered that possibility.

"This," the man from my interview had been giving me a general tour and run-through of the company activities, "Is one of many white rooms, where the photo shoots are very often done."

The stark, bare walls seemed to almost stare back at me, challenging me with their blank appearance. The possibilities were endless. This white room, like a painter's canvas, would be the building blocks for everything that I do. I could imagine all sorts of people and objects strategically positioned in front of the walls. Though I hadn't thought it possible, I was now even more excited than I was before.

Just as the man (Mr. Oh, I had learned) was about to tear me away from my oasis, a man, or perhaps he could even be called a boy, came striding over.

"Sorry Mr. Oh, I just wanted to run over a few things really quickly, if I may."

Though I had originally seen him as a 20 year old, I realized his soft face was playing tricks on my eyes. He was probably older, maybe 25. Not particularly tall, he still towered over my small figure as well as Mr. Oh's stout body. His hair, obviously died a caramel colour, was waved back off his forehead. Showing a paper to Mr. Oh, I could see the man's eyes peering through these thick-rimmed glasses, their dark frames contrasting his milky skin. Something about those dark brown eyes, though a boring colour, radiated youth and hinted at mischievousness. He looked so much like a typical hipster-nerd, it was almost comical. I bet he ordered lattes whenever he went to the coffee shop.

"Sujin-ssi?" Mr. Oh's voice surprised me.

"Yes?"

"Did you drift off? I was just introducing you to Joonmyun-ssi."

I looked at the man, Joonmyun, only to see that the corners of his mouth were turned up in amusement. I greeted him and bowed, as did he.

"Joonmyun will be your new partner, so I hope that you two get along well." He turned to the caramel-haired man. "I think you can finish showing our new photographer around." With that, he left to go speak to another manager.

Partner? I was under the impression that I was going to be paired up with some old Geezer as my mentor. Now, I unexpectedly learned that I would be working hand in hand with this bespectacled young man.

He smiled and said "First time working at a magazine?" It was a question yet it sounded almost like a statement.

I nodded. "Is it that obvious?"

He pretended to ponder my question. What a dork. "Yes, yes it is."

"I was sincerely hoping I would be able to hide my utter noob-ishness."

"Well you do have a notepad on you." He was now fully smiling, clearly entertained. "Please tell me you aren't going to take notes on whatever I say."

I knew he was kidding, but I stuck the notepad in my bag, mentally slapping myself for making such a beginner mistake.

This was going to be an interesting first day.