Jin walked into his apartment, pink in the face, his brown bangs pasted to his forehead with sweat. He slammed the door to his place harder than strictly necessary.
He liked the sound it made, like it was telling the world to go to hell on his behalf. He stripped off the stained chef-whites and tossed them aside before cracking an alcoholic beer open and opening a family sized bag of cheap potato chips and a small container of tomato sauce. That was the only meal he had to eat that day.
He looked like a man who had given up on life. No matter how He wanted to see it, he had really lost another job. One he thought he secured with absolutely no problem, but every single time he makes progress, Hong intervenes and changes things for the worse.
