pgyulâ:
if yulheeâs good at anything, itâs remembering names. this one is heejin, the company is⌠yeah, and the drink she had this morning was, regrettably, purmil brand âghanaâ chocolate milk (though the brand has nothing to do with it). having the credentials for a management gig isnât an impossible feat either, meanwhile, but whoâs to say she was the desperate one during the interview? beats her. she recalls the opportunity starting as quick as it had come, âdonât be like this, this, and thisâ the one thing to really stick.
sheâs hoping the building tour doesnât last past noon. thereâs still a matter of meeting the girls, imagining how quickly theyâll drop the formalities behind closed doors. itâd be a testament to how thirty is just a continuation⌠thatâs it, thatâs the sentiment. âself-introduction,â yulhee subconsciously repeats, knowingly pointing to herself and bowing her head against the glass door. âahâŚâ
the bump feels massive, her cheeks red as her palm instinctively soothes the pain away. how useless, heejin being curt through and through. âiâm yulhee.â she recalculates where, who she needs to look at. âletâs work well.â if he cares enough about what her business is around here, heâll probably ask assuming heejin doesnât scurry her off to the next room in the hall. but something tells her itâs dangerous to give ms. shin the benefit of doubt. must be that wince yul didnât plan for.
first day nerves? she wouldnât be the first one heâs seen (or experienced firsthand, for that matter). âyo,â he says, elbow propped against the desk table and palm propelling like a catapult.  âyulhee...?â no last name? âhwang sangho.â he gives a little nod to his monitor, awash in a spectrum of colors from top to bottom.Â
âi do tracks. teach some of the kids here how to run around the track, putting it another way.â sangho smiles and leans back, the chair responding in kind with a tired squeak. especially knowing how oppressive heejin can get (given the opportunity), itâs an earnest little attempt to lighten the mood: âguess that makes me a kinda p.e. teacher?â
his elbows come to rest a little too comfortably, and they give way, slipping on the keyboard. with that, thereâs a slight blare in his headphones, likely audible to the audience of two, and he ruffles and reddens. tit for tat, his turn. his brain sprints double-time through the fog to find a good distraction, ânew manager for solidare, was it?â














