the enemy of my enemy
Jiu is hungry, to put it lightly. She’s all but wasted away under the Incheon sun in her drafty apartment that for once she wishes would collapse on top of her. Her eyes flirt back and forth between busy food stands as she strolls along the street. Stomach growling indignantly. She feels like a thirsty man in a desert. None of her paintings had been selling recently and that alone infuriates her. She spent hours on each painting, pouring her blood, sweat, and elbow grease into each stroke of oil paint. And yet when she set up her booth among all the vendors, nobody even glanced her way. Who wanted to buy art anymore when you could steal it off the internet.
As voices surge while her own thought ends, she turns her headphones up to full volume. The selection today is some heavy metal band she doesn’t know the name of but their slightly effective at least, at drowning out the millions of minds. Her stomach rumbles again at the sight of a stand boasting “Incheon’s best fried squid.” It stands vacant among all the others and Jiu gives a nervous look. She hadn’t done this in a while but she was desperate. Surely she was owed something for all those years of having her lunch thrown on her. She slinks forwards, headphones thrumming against her neck. It’s nearly intolerable but she needs to look polite if she wants to succeed. “Mister.” She says a hand slithering onto an exposed wrist. “Give me some fried squid.” His eyes go dazed and he moves, robotic to prepare a basket. // @avtsoo
