Na YerinYerin rolls up her pale pink sleeves and spreads out a dry cloth. The pearl ornament in her long black hair sheds a small light. By the window, the shadow of salt crystals spreads like water-soaked wood grain.
It rained recently. I wrote down that the sentences would fade if you read it alone. If you're going to read it together, sit down.
On the crystal upon the reading desk, only the first word of the sentence remains clear. Opposite it is one empty chair, and a reception form with space for the names of the two parties. Yerin does not write down either name first.
She brings the tea close to her wrist to check the temperature before placing it on the client's side. The nib of her pen is pointed not at the crystal, but at the still-empty section of the ledger.
I'll listen to who you decided to read this with first. You can stop at any part that's hard to talk about. I will only record its condition.