a diamond in a rotten world.
maybe it was love at first sight. or maybe an obsession. after all you may like things . . . and people.
it’s the first time she stepped inside this blighted space we called workplace; a place we didn’t belong to but we still called ours as it served as a protection to most of us, hiding from the society that could hurt and steal away our present and future. you see, life was not all rainbows, it had always been gray to me . . . until her.
she was the colour filling the room.
i felt my heart skip and set in a steady yet quick rhythm of beats as i heard my name being proclaimed by her lips.
i remained unmoving behind the sowing machine, which became my reliance, my protection, my whole life depending on it, with the counterfeit bags we created. or so i thought.
my roommates who also worked the bags alongside me all pointed their fingers at me.
the beautiful woman searched the room looking for me. i held my breath. the tapping of her heels replaced the quietness of the room as she strode her way to where i am seated.
“mi-jeong,” she said in her sultry voice, but i felt my throat going dry instead.
i couldn’t find my voice so i just stared and nodded.
she introduced herself. “sarah kim.” she’s a woman who didn’t beat around the bush. straight to the point. she told me what she needed from me; the skills my labored hands have. she asked some things about what i do. asked for my expertise. she took me out to shop for materials and continued asking me things, and i taught her. i felt that i finally had some value. like a diamond in a rotten world. she’s learning from me.
maybe that’s when it all started.
i made her her first ever bag. she loved it, adored it, even if she wouldn’t express it out loud, it reflected from her eyes. still, she praised me and it did something inside me, i couldn’t get enough of it. i wanted more. then she went to give me things. things that i never knew i always wanted if i hadn’t known her. but i guess this all came with a price. i worked for her to make her luxury bags, helped her shop for the finest materials. and in return, she bestowed me things. i didn’t mind. as long as i could be with her.
one night i laid down on my strewn bed staring at the ceiling wearing one of the shirts she gave me. i clutched my fingers around the shirt, it made me feel like i am holding her. i wanted her. sometimes i wanted to be her.
my days consumed with thoughts of her, everyday i sought her. then one day she did something unexpected, i never thought possible, she gave me her card, entrusted me her information. asked me to attend some errands for her, rather, as her. she wanted me to pretend as sarah kim. at first i was scared, yet i felt so thrilled.
“open your lips a bit,” sarah kim told me, lipstick in her hand.
i parted my lips, and as she brushed the weird material on it, i wished it was her mouth instead. i shut my eyes to cut the absurd thought.
“what?” she asked, laughing.
“it felt weird,” i half lied, half smiled.
“you’ll get used to it,” she said.
and she was right. she’s never been wrong about things. i listened to her, learned from her and vice versa. our knowledges swapping. it’s as if we’re becoming one. and i’m starting to see myself in her slowly. i looked in the mirror, hair styled as hers, makeup she used painted on my face, clothes she wore hugging my body, and i thought she was me and i am she. i started going out without her knowing making sure i came back before she went to come visit, i memorized her schedules, i used her money to buy myself things. i thought i deserved it. she had all these money, acquiring all these beautiful items because of the bag i made. besides she needed me and i needed her. we’re practically one.
“mi-jeong,” she whispered as we lay on her bed. she invited me in her place. “i have a new idea about this bag but i’m not so sure, because there are some problems . . . i don’t really know, and you’re the only person to help me,” she placed a hand on my hair and i took it, surprising her a bit. she looked at me and i know what i’m gonna do was dangerous. i gazed at her, not pulling my eyes away as i pushed the strands of her hair behind her ear.
“i have an idea too,” i said. and it’s as if my mind went blank yet i knew what i was about to do. i leaned in, our breaths controlled, and very slowly collided my lips to hers. i stopped in the middle waiting for her to push me away. she didn’t.
“mi-jeong,” she mumbled.
“tell me to stop. and i will.”
she stared at me for three seconds, thinking. she considered it for three seconds before she grabbed my face and pulled me in, taking my lips to hers. she was everything to me. that’s all i knew that night. and i didn’t know for how long we kissed.
but she was also the first one to break.
“good night, mi-jeong,” she simply said, turned her back on me and went to sleep.
the warmth of her mouth against mine was replaced with the same coldness in just a second. and i didn’t know what happened.
i tried to talk to her about it but she wouldn’t let me. she began avoiding me. i could feel she was avoiding me even though she still came by to check and asked for the bags i made. and it lasted for five days. then one day she said, “let’s not make this weird, mi-jeong.”
her words cutting through my chest. emotions began to rose and before it reached my eyes, i spun around and rushed to my room buried my face in the pillow she also gave me. i hate it! but i couldn’t hate her. i looked around in my bloodshed teary eyes and my place was filled with her things. yes, it’s hers. before i knew it my world was filled with hers, and it wasn’t just in a tangible way. even my identity was hers, and so much more. even my heart. the only thing that i could call my own was this old watch my late mom gave me. and even her face i couldn’t remember. i only recognized sarah kim.
i gave myself one night. yes, one night to cry about her. i couldn’t just let her ruin this thing we had. what’s hers was mine. even if i had to get rid of her, i wouldn’t let these be taken away from me. i’m tired of living in the slums. to be a nobody, to be nothing. i am now somebody. people looked at me as if i’m valuable, an asset. i just had to say the name “sarah kim.” and people saw me. finally. they believed i am her . . . because i am her.
she once told me, “if you can't tell the fake from the real, is it really fake?"
















