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Summary
“I’m Kim Dokja,” he offers, pressing the button for the elevator with the knuckle of his finger. “QA department.”
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” the man replies after a long silence. The heat of his presence burns circles into his left shoulder blade, the edge of his coat scraping bone. “Have we met before?”
He looks back, and feels it, the lingering ache from the morning making itself known. “No,” he says, stepping into the elevator. “No, I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
Some things are meant to be. Maybe Yoo Joonghyuk is one of them.