Cold, hungry, and upset.
Thats what Son Naeun felt when she was cleaning up.
'Make sure you clean all the glass panes, alright Naeun?'

'Can you mop the top floor properly?'
'Why haven't you cleared out the trash yet?'
'Can you do a better job when you're the cashier next time?'

Words. Just words and words and words.
They hurt so much
Like little thorns, pressing down on her heart.

So she worked and worked, and worked some more
Until she was so tired, so cold.
And bitter with the memories of what happened that day.

'A latte, not a cappuccino, what are you, stupid?'
'My macchiato doesn't even have enough foam, do they even train you?'
All it was, was bad.

Naeun stacked up the rest of the chair to the sound of a pattering of raindrops.
She looked up, through the glass of the cafe door, to a raging storm.
'How am I going to get home?'

Naeun stood at the tiny patch of shelter at the front of the cafe, armed with just a small umbrella she usually carries.
'Well, here goes nothing.' She thought to herself, before stepping forwards into the rain.
Into the rain, and the wind, as she pushed back against the gusts of cold