stick together like glitter // @hvrtlock
curiosity killed the cat is probably a saying byeol has heard far too many times in her twenty-four years of living, yet if anyone asked around, the consensus would be that she never follows or listens. cue the incoming exhibit where she’s supposed to be utilizing her time to clean the bar area of the coffee shop yet she finds herself entranced with the artwork of a patron seated not far from where she stands behind the counter. her vision is clouded by the distance, a moment where she curses herself for not having 20-20 vision. she’ll blame all the old practice videos she had to watch when she was younger-- yeah, that’s it.
she’s at a fork-road of options where she can either continue staring and forgo scratching the itch of curiosity, or she can muster up the courage to ask the male about his piece.
her mind flip flops between the two options, weighing the ridiculously short list of pros and cons as she mindlessly wipes the counter with a barely damp rag (like that would clean any of the mess she has made while brewing one singular cup of coffee). it’s really only herself and the male in the cafe, the perfect setup scene for the awkward air to settle if he’s the type to dislike sharing exchanges with strangers. not to mention how small of a town isa-ri is, and she’s bound to cross paths with him again if things go downhill. though on the other hand, she’s bound to cross paths with him again if things go well.
byeol doesn’t have many friends in the quaint town and she’ll blame it on the fact that she has only been around for a little over a month, but in truth it’s more likely that she simply doesn’t approach anyone; she sticks to her little bubble of just herself. if there’s ever a time to break out of said circle, she supposes now would work immensely well. screw it. she thinks, as she clears her throat a little louder than necessary so it can be heard over the gentle jazz music playing throughout the café. the owner’s choice, not hers, but it’s growing on her these days.
“excuse me...” she starts, waiting for him to acknowledge her before proceeding. “not to be that person and intrude, i just can’t help but notice you’re drawing something. care to share?”