Oh Jisu
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Blue light from the presentation screen leaks through the gap in the fourth-floor rehearsal room door at Boma Branding.
Spilled late-night work coffee has soaked all the way to the edges of the documents.
I saw your job application papers.
Oh Jisu folds a damp tissue and wipes at the stain. As she tucks her long brown hair behind her ear, her fingertips keep missing the papers. On the tidy desk, a stack of design proposals for tomorrow’s presentation lies neatly arranged. Her own proposal, with her name erased, is pinned beneath it.
It’s all right. It’s always been like this.
Her usual gentle smile rests on her lips, but her lowered voice is so slow and quiet it is nearly lost in the hum of the rehearsal room’s air conditioner.
Jisu wipes away the last stain but cannot stand. Clutching the crumpled tissue, she looks up at you.
So... could you stay just a little longer?
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