if you’re not talking booze i don't want to talk ; Cheongnam looked like what Hani remembered, a glorified hamster cage for glorified entitled kids, the titled passed from generation to generation. She was one of those kids, and hell, maybe she still is.
She’s all giggles and the fast click-clack of heels as Hani skips quickly in the maze of halls. When she got the news about the reunion the first thing she thought was of her little secret stash. Would it still be there? Maybe it survived all those years? Back then she didn't care about the uniform strick rules, but she didn’t wear stilettos like now. Her hair was shorter and darker, now it’s longer and fuller thanks to the tufts of hair glued to her head. She wore pretty glasses that gave her a sweet schoolgirl vibe, now she wears colored contacts that give her a feline lesbian snake vibe if that’s even a way to describe someone.
Hani almost squeaks when the door to the empty smaller science lab room on the third-floor cracks open, and if she remembers well, it was just behind the second-to-left metal cabinet. A thin, discreet flask shoved behind the furniture. She quats awkwardly, thighs wrapped in a too tight plastic-y mini skirt, and Hani’s long fingers reach behind the cabinet filled with beakers and shit until--
“Yes, fuck!” She grabs it! Her drinking flask. A little dusty, smaller than she remembered, engraved with someone’s monogram. She stole it from... Some kid, who cares? All that matters is that her own Cheongnam time capsule was filled with poorly preserved, room temperature whiskey. She could buy the most extravagant Champagne in the market if she wanted to, but that little thing right there? That was special. It represented her happy go lucky days, days she didn’t give a fuck, days she went to P.E classes with no underwear, days she didn’t have to compensate for eating a burger by peddling her soul away in spinning class because her metabolism is not the same anymore.
That 8oz stainless steel flask held the essence of Past Hani, when she still remembered what breaking rules felt like. What better way to start that night with a ritual bringing Past Hani and Present Hani together? She unscrews the flash open and knocks the god damn thing back, l'chaim.
And one second later she geyser-spits it on the wall. “UGH!” Flash news, past Hani tastes like dead butt. “Oh my god.” That just about ruined any ritualistic spirit left in her, and she threw the flash out of the window, pulled her mini skirt down a bit and waddled her way out of the room to try and find some bleach to rinse her mouth.
