Somehow she remains both civil and tactful for those who quite frankly don’t deserve the courtesy.
They're not friends but she laughs as if they are at every feeble attempt of a quip or witticism. Through gritted teeth she feigns a smile, nods on queue to that reassure them that their sentiments are as interesting as they think they are.
She’s entertaining company she doesn’t care for, people who only want to be around her to entangle their web of connections within the realm of pretentious chamber music fanatics and virtuosos alike.
And by the time they all finally part ways, she’s left exhausted and alone in a restaurant that seems eerily silent without the buzzing of businessmen and their socialite spouses.
But she’s not too tired to drink away her sorrows, and the untouched bottle of soju beside her is begging to be emptied.
“Hey, pretty boy.” She tilts her head toward the empty seat across the table, hands moving nimbly to twist off the cap and fill a shot glass to the brim. “It’s not too busy in here right now. Wanna join me?”
@hpjskip -- june ‘17








