"That's fifteen thousand won, sir," I drone out, totally uncomfortable that I'm getting ogled by this old creep in front of me. Like, can you not.

            The man strangely snickers to himself before pulling his wallet out and paying for his three bags full of socks. "Thank you, Miss." I force a smile and exchange his money for his change. "You look very lovely today." 

            Um.

            "Thank you! That is very sweet of you," I reply politely, carefully choosing a neutral tone. I nod at him before looking at everything and anything but his face, hoping that he gets the hint.

            "How long have you worked here?"  He doesn't.

            I turn to him with a wide smile on my face, tapping on the checkout counter as I answer. "Not that long. Only a few months." More like a year.

            "Ah, I see!" He responds with a grin. He stands there for what seems like a lot longer than necessary before turning around and walking away, not even bothering to say bye.

            Um. Okay.

            I puff my cheeks and look down my checkout lane before glancing at my phone resting beside the cash register. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and I am out of here. 

            "Sumin!" I turn around to find the source of the nasally voice that I always dread to hear. I fight the urge to groan and roll my eyes. "Sumin! Do you not realize the mess in aisle three?" The voice roars down this side of the store, and I can see the looks on my co-workers faces scrunch up into pitiful gazes directed towards me.

            My boss, the one currently stomping over, is a woman of greater...density, and although she has done a great job of running this store, she's a huge pain in everyone's . She calls you out for even the slightest of misplacements, and I'm talking millimeters. I remember last month she scolded me for the row of cans that weren't exactly 5.5 centimeters apart.

            First of all, why the would you make the primary distance an odd number? You never pick an odd number. Ever. So I panicked. My OCD kicked in and I adjusted her measurements because I didn't expect her to walk around the store with a meter stick. Except to my horror, about an hour later, she practically dragged me with her giant, meaty hands all the way to the aisle and forced me to watch her how to measure correctly– with a meter stick, of course– and insulted me on how I couldn't even do a simple cognitive task of reading a ruler.

            I had altered the distance to 5.6 centimeters, trying to make the gap look somewhat less awkward. Also, does she really expect people to measure such a small distance with a big ing meter stick?

            Crazy .

            "Sumin, are you listening to me?" The God awful voice brings me out of my reverie. "There is a mountainous supply of flour just casually spread around in aisle three!" She slams her hand down on my counter. "Go clean it up."

            What the ! What about these other employees? Why does it have to be me? My shift ends in ten ing minutes! I'm not cleaning up this ing mess! It's not like I decided to rip up a few packages of all purpose flour and make a damn flour angel out of it! And I was assigned to aisle five this week, not aisle ing three! 

            I take a deep breath and try not to expose my frustration. I remind myself that I need this job. "Yes, Kim sajangnim." She nods her head with fierce approval before jiggling away. Oops, I mean walking.

            With raw fury blooming through me, I go to the back and grab a broom, walk to aisle three, and beginning sweeping the "mountainous supply of flour" that's J Chillin' for no ing reason. I am so angry, so ready to stab someone, that I feel the need to pray mentally before I can cause mass bloodshed within the supermarket.

            "Woah, that looks like a to clean." I know that voice from anywhere. I look up from the floor and glare at the tattoo infested male. "It's okay, I know how you feel. I once had to vacuum the the yeyo that my homie spilled and sell it to my neighbor the next day." I stare at him long and hard. Yeyo? Sell? He smirks at me. "Babe, the way you're looking at me turns me on."

            I scoff loudly. "Shut the up, Zico! And this is flour, not !"

            He only smirks wider. "That's what they want you to think."

            What?

            I gape at his stupidity. "That's what who wants me to think, Zico?"

            He's grinning now, exposing the diamond grillz in his teeth. "I love it when you say my name."

            I cringe in disgust. "Please close your mouth. And that's not even your real name." I look back down at my broom and start sweeping again, trying to ignore him. I feel his stare on me, so I glance at him, only to notice him looking low. "Are you ing kidding me right now? Get lost, Zico!"

            He winks. "Fine, baby girl. I have to go check up on aisle three anyway." That captures my attention.

            "You're the face assigned to aisle three?" I glower in fury when he stares at me blankly. "Do you know that you're currently standing in aisle three? This is your ing job!"

            He laughs and seems to genuinely answer my question. "Oh, baby doll. This is clearly aisle fifty eight." He winks at me and starts walking away. "I'll see you later, y." My eyes widen. Did he show up to work high?

            I lift up the broom and point it at him while shouting to his back, "Ya! Where do you think you're going, you imbecile!? You do realize that this supermarket only has thirty aisles, right?" He waves me off and continues walking to the other end of the store.

            What the hell is wrong with that guy?

            I shake my head in disappointment at what humanity has come to and go back to sweeping up the powder. I try to be really gentle with the flour, seeing as how I don't want it to fly everywhere and make it more of a to clean up. I take out my phone from my pocket and notice the time. I frown deeply at the fact that I've been here ten minutes overtime. I begrudgingly put my phone away and go back to sweeping and mutter to myself, "Stupid flour. Stupid Zico. Stupid job. Stupid life. Stupid fat bi–"

            "Would you like some help?" A voice suddenly asks. Oh, so now he decides to help!

            I look up, "Zico, you're a piece of shi– " I stop when I meet the frightened eyes of a teenage boy. My mouth turns into a giant O shape as I stare at the adorable yet tall boy in front of me. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

            He gives me a cheerful grin. "That's okay! Though you didn't answer my question." He shows me a broom in his hand. "Would you like some help?" 

            I smile in gratitude. "That would be very kind of you." He smiles and starts helping me sweep. I notice the red polo that he's wearing. "Woah, you work here?" 

            He looks up quickly and looks down at the ground as he sweeps. "Yes I do! I started working here last week. I only work here part time though, because I still go to high school." I knew it.

            "That's cool." I nod in approval. "I remember when I was in high school. I would have killed to work a job, but I was always so busy with my studies." He looks up at me curiously. 

            "'You remember when you were in high school?'" He quotes me questioningly. "How old are you?"

            "I'm twenty-two, almost twenty-three," I respond. The boy widens his eyes. I crack a smile. "Did you think I went to high school?"

            He chuckles as he sweeps up the flour into the dustpan holder. "Honestly, I did. You look so young and pretty, so I assumed that you were a new student at my high school."

            I almost wanted to blush. Almost. "Aw, that's so sweet, kid." I laugh as I too begin to sweep up the flour into the dust pan. "You're a really nice and considerate person to be helping me with a mess that isn't even your problem." Or mine. Still salty about that, by the way.

            "No problem, noona." His response makes me freeze in surprise, but he doesn't seem to be so affected by it. "I can call you 'noona', right?" He didn't seemed to be troubled by my reaction with that small smirk on his face.  What a smooth talker. This kid probably has a group– no– a tribe of fangirls at his school.

            I roll my eyes at him and smile. "What's your name, kid?"

            He grins widely. "Jeon Jungkook, noona!"

            I laugh at his excitement. "Well anyway Jungkook, thanks for helping me clean up this stupid mess." I observe the clean floor, though it could use some mopping before anyone could consider it spotless. I refuse to mop. I'm going the home. I look back at the adorable teenager and glance at his polo again. "Also, don't forget to wear your name tag. Kim sajangnim will tear you a new ." The boy's eyes widen as he checks his shirt, and I chuckle when he mutters a curse.

            "Do me a favor, Jungkook," I say, totally taking advantage of his kindness.

            He looks up at me with a big smile. "What is it, noona?" So naive.

            "Can you take my broom to the storage along with yours? I have to hurry home." He nods eagerly and takes the broom from my hand. I smile widely at him and wave before turning around. "Thank you, Jungkook! I'll see you later! Have a good night!" 

            "Good night, noona!" is the last thing I hear before exiting the supermarket and observing the dark sky. I check my phone for the time once more and scoff, curses rushing through my head as I think of my witch of a boss. Thirty ing minutes. Gone. Just like that.

            I sigh and rub my temples. What a waste of another day.

            "Sumin! You're finally home!" I hear my mother's sweet voice call from the kitchen. She must have heard me open the door. "What took you so long, sweetie?"

            Closing the door, I frown widely and I slip off my shoes. Walking toward the kitchen I respond, "My devil of a boss always and only picks on me, eomma." I scoff loudly. "She hates me, I swear!"

            I walk into the kitchen to find my mom standing by the stove with her oven mits on. She chuckles when she sees my expression. "I'm sure she doesn't. She's probably impressed by your hard work and believes that you're the only one capable of doing certain things."

            I stare blankly at her. "Right."

            She gives me a playful look and nods her head to the oven. "Oh, for God's sake! Calm down! Go get washed up and change! I'm making cookies!" That brings a giant smile to my face and I immediately scurry to my room to get changed with my mom's amused laughter echoing behind me.

            I walk back into the kitchen in my orange shorts and white t-shirt and sit down at the table, eagerly watching my mom remove the cookies from the tray with a spatula. "Don't eat it until three minutes have passed. These are really hot."

            I snort and roll my eyes. "Mom, I'm not a kid anymore."

            My mom stares at me, unamused. "You burned your tongue last time from eating the cookie fresh out of oven."

            I drop my jaw. "That was one time!"

            "It happened last month. And your tongue was sensitive for a whole week."

            I cross my arms and pout. Whatever, mom.

            Eventually the three minutes pass and I'm sitting at the table, eating cookies and scrolling through instagram and liking my idol's favorite posts and such until my mom starts talking again. "Are you ready for tomorrow night?"

            Without looking up I ask, "What's tomorrow night?"

            My mom gasps loudly, "Sumin!"

            I finally look up in alarm. "What?"

            She shakes her head in disapproval. "I've told you for weeks to make sure you're free tomorrow for that family dinner we've been talking about!"

            Oh. I just shrug. "Oh, okay. I just didn't know it was tomorrow. I'll be there." I laugh lightly. "I mean, I live here, sooooo–"

            "That's not the point, Sumin! Did you even find a dress?" Now that catches my attention.

            I scrunch up my face in confusion. "A dress? Why do I need to wear a dress? It's a family dinner!"

            Mom starts filling a glass with milk. "Your sister is visiting from college, and she asked if we could all dress up formally for this dinner."

            I scoff. "Of course she did." My mom gives me the stink eye. "Okay, okay! I'll make sure I have something nice to wear for tomorrow."

            Mom nods with approval as she places the cup of milk down on the table. I thank her and start drinking from it as I continue to scroll through my phone. "And remember, Sumin. The dinner starts at six, okay? I expect you to be here no later than five thirty." I don't respond and continue scrolling through my phone. "Sumin? Do you understand me?"

            "Yes, mom! I understand you! I'll be here at 5:30, I promise!" I respond without looking up and bite into another cookie.

            I haven't taken a personal day in four months. My demon of a boss should be okay with it.