"Celina; once's the shift is over, head home."
"Right sir," she said with a platter in hand. 'A year and a have has elapsed,' the changing room was much to be desired, privacy was but a paper-thin cabinet shielding her from the outside. She swapped clothes, took her backpack, and left through the backdoor, "-good luck at uni," said a few cheerful colleagues.
"You too," she replied, "-good luck at work," two gentle waves and gone, the current of office drones and students swept her without batting an eye. A bus soon boarded, she embarked and left, not many took her line since most headed away from Rashord Musical Academy, '-it's been a year and a bit,' the familiar outside past, "-my father was killed in cold blood. I knew he was bad… the killer took me in and offered me a chance to fulfill my dream. As he said, the monthly allowance was cut – had to move to a smaller apartment to compensate for trying times. No matter, what of you, Jong, how's your life been?"
