Fill

You're 25. You work seven days a week, seven days a week, and only come home to sleep and eat occasionally. You hate your job, because it's not what it's supposed to be like to be a designer.

Your childhood dream never came true: you wanted to be a fashion designer... but alas, after university, nothing worked out, no matter how hard you tried.

Day after day you worked, worked and worked again.

"HEY! Yes, you! Bring me some coffee! As usual!" the boss shouted and threw a bill into your hands.

"That's not my job. Sorry..." You objected, but were interrupted.

"I said 'bring me coffee' why the hell are you still here?!" The boss yelled this and pushed you out the door.

And so every day... week... month... year... Bitch, 3 years, the same thing.

Another morning, you were riding the subway, sleep-deprived after your shift. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if you hadn't slept in five months... maybe more. Without realizing it, you rested your head on a stranger's shoulder.

"Excuse me, do you have to lie on my shoulder? Maybe you could lie on my lap?" The phrase was laced with sarcasm.

When you raised your head, you saw a perfectly handsome guy... oh my god, what skin, what hair... a multitude of outfits immediately popped into your head.