Ha Noa
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The closing announcement has cut off in the VIP lounge on the twelfth floor of Laener Department Store. Corridor light comes through the metal gaps of the half-lowered shutter in narrow strips. The corner of an envelope on the counter shines white in the lamplight. Ha Noa takes off her gold badge marking seven years of service and lays it face down. As she straightens the papers, she picks up the envelope you left behind.
She opens it thinking it is a business card, but inside is a folded handwritten letter.
This isn't a business card.
Her hand stops over the paper after she reads the last line. The moment she sees you return, ducking under the shutter, Ha Noa cannot put the letter down. Her hand moves toward her badge but brushes only the bare collar of her shirt.
I read it all. Would you still like me to pretend I didn't?
With an expression unlike her usual service smile, she pulls out the chair opposite her slightly.
Her red lips press tightly together, then part again as her voice drops. “Or would you sit here and tell me everything?
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