#himchan-vipers

"The solubility in water is between 50 and 100 mg/mL  at 16C° per mg/mL  at 20 °C"

The wall clock's incessant ticking resounded just loudly enough to be annoying. Sunggyu perched on a bar stool with his knees up to his ribs, feet hooked on the top bar. He rattled off chemical statistics to be documented. The smuggler he was talking to was just a little too slow for his taste, a different one than usual. Sunggyu wondered how he had gotten into such a high standing as to be trusted with smuggling Amphetamine for the mafia.

The smuggler man finished writing on his clipboard and handed it to someone else. Sunggyu's name wouldn't be on the shipment, the best method to avoid being traced if the shipment was confiscated. That said, he also couldn't be blamed if his work was faulty, though that was awfully unlikely. The wooden crate was picked up carefully from the floor to be sealed properly and shipped out.

Moving with stiffness, Sunggyu got himself up and followed the man. "O-oh wait, you g-got that it was amphetamine instead of methamphetamine correct?" No one on earth was stupid enough to get them mixed up, but if anyone could, it was liable to be this guy for all of Sunggyu's luck. Reassured with a nod, Sunggyu waved them off.

The gush of light seeping through the windows carried forth a soft luster, a forebode of twilight, that bathed the lazy waltz of dust in gold. Zico watched the glowing shadows of sunlight pouring in from dirty windows grow longer, waiting in silent anticipation for them to crawl onto his counter and kiss his busy fingers with their warmth. Laced in the passing day’s afterglow, for a short hour the bar seemed to melt into another dimension whereat time would cease in existence in the splendor of the blue hours before dusk. For those who witnessed such, the bar, laced in this soft golden glow refracting from countless glass surfaces such as bottles and glasses and mirroring even from the polished tables, appeared sacred - A blasphemous antagonism to its purpose.  Albeit its comedic quality, the thought only evoked a faint sense of longing within Zico, a feeling he couldn’t quite place but walked hand in hand with loneliness, so he busied himself.

It was these hours that Zico awaited each day. Not for the serenity of the golden silence that settled in absence of customers or the slowly retreating heat but for the curious visitor that would pose a grand contrast to the placidity he would shatter with his entrance. Breeze-like the boy would sweep in and disrupt the careful equilibrium the premise had settled in. It was a welcome destruction of a peacefulness that would have become heavy on Zico’s temper by the time the whore would make his entrance.

While Zico had occupied one hand with the task of polishing an already shining counter, his other set of fingers started strumming a nervous rhythm against the wooden surface. It was about time. A little irked, the owner glowered at the door that wouldn’t swing open before casting a glance upon his wrist to catch a grasp of the time. He was late. While Zico entertained the question of the cause to his observation, a soft creaking of the door announced an arrival and, immediately, Zico’s attention snapped back to the front. The hint of a smirk ghosted across his features, wiped the frown away, and beckoned the corners of his lips the slightest bit skywards.

“Where’s the love of my life?” The newcomer’s shadow grazed Zico’s knuckles, which stilled their movement as the familiar greeting chased an obstructive silence to the far corners. Sarcasm always dripped forth from their lips thick as poison and somewhere along getting to know each other the whore’s mock-contemptuous personality had cauterized a strange liking for the boy into Zico.  

Her keys jingled in her pocket as Atsuko quickly jogged to the cafe. She had forgotten them at home and had to rush back and get them, so she was now trying to get to the cafe before opening time. Hopefully, she could get there before the first customer showed up and set up the store properly.

She came to a stop in front of the quaint restaurant and stood there for a moment, catching her breath. With clumsy hands, Atsuko unlocked the front door and closed it just as quickly. She ran to the back to change into her uniform, and since it was a cute Japanese-themed cafe, it was a light pink maid uniform, complete with long white socks, frilly white apron, and matching pink high heels. It was a little too short for her liking, and she got attention from men she didn't want while she was working. The only upside was that she got tipped more because of it. 

Stocking the tables with cutlery and napkins as quickly as she could, Atsuko remembered the new set of tea cups were stacked away on one of the high shelves. The owner had ordered it a week ago and it had arrived last night, so he expected Atsuko to get it from where it was placed and take them all out of the package. She made sure the fresh cakes were in the display window out front, flipped the front sign to say 'OPEN' and dragged a chair over to the shelf behind the counter.