Others

Saturday was the day after Friday. While Miya was busy recording a music video and Mukashi was keeping her to her schedule, the janitor was cleaning. He had been working for Zygeist Media for a decade, but he really only did it to keep himself busy. He'd managed to save up a lot of money for his retirement before he'd turned fifty, so he'd decided to leave his simple office job for something less mentally draining, just to keep working.
     He had sent in applications to several businesses for any simple positions, and he hadn't really been expecting any sort of response. He thought it was largely a hopeless endeavor; after all, who would want to hire an old man looking to work simply because he couldn't sit still? 
     When Zygeist Media had replied saying that they would offer him more than decent pay for a simple job as a janitor, he'd agreed to it almost immediately. His grandson had asked him if that meant he was going to meet and talk with any famous singers or performers. He had replied with a wry grin and told his grandson that something like that happening was unlikely.
     The nondisclosure agreement that expressly forbade speaking about what he saw during his job was an unpleasant surprise. He'd almost turned down the job offer right there, but none of the other companies had responded, and so he'd ended up signing the agreement.
     As it turned out, the agreement had never been very important to his work. He hardly even saw the idols, and he'd never talked to one directly before. All he knew about them was what he could gather from cleaning their rooms. For instance, he knew that the all-male group 'Neatle' had rooms that were all next to each other, and that they all used the exact same brand of toothpaste, which was different from the toothpaste that was in the other idols' rooms. 
     He stepped into Miya's room and began cleaning it. He dusted the shelves and wiped down the table, then vacuumed the carpet and started on the bathroom. The mirror was polished, as were the sink and toilet, and the shower was de-scaled. Of course, the work was extremely easy. Considering he went through this exact routine nearly every day, there was never enough time for anything to become truly dirty. Everything maintained its nearly spotless sheen and clean shine. 
     He stepped out of the bathroom and looked at the last thing he needed to clean. 
     The bed looked well-made.
     He shook his head and stepped towards it, then took the bedspread off it and examined it closely. There were subtle stains on it that he knew from experience were makeup based. He quickly folded the bedspread, put it onto his cart, then pulled out a fresh one and began placing it on the bed. 
     He'd seen the letter Miya had placed under the pillow the moment he'd moved the bedspread, but he was in no rush to pick it up from off the floor where it had landed. He finished cleaning the bed thoroughly, then double-checked every part of Miya's room, just to make sure he'd done it all correctly. Once he was satisfied that it had all been cleaned very well, he smiled.
     He looked down at the cardboard with words on it. 
     He picked it up leisurely and scanned it absently, doing his best not to read anything on it too deeply. He flipped it over when he couldn't find an address, and sighed when he saw that the address he needed to mail it to was written on the other side. He tucked the piece of cardboard into his pocket, then turned to leave the room. 
     His cart rattled into the hallway. He stopped. 
     There hadn't been any stationery in her room at all. He scrunched his lips slightly, then patted himself down. He thought about Miss Min-Hee and considered how much easier things would be for her if she had something proper to write on. He turned to his cart and saw that there was a big pad of lined paper hanging from a clipboard.
     Moments later, the pad of lined paper was beneath Miya's pillow. 
     The janitor shut off the light in Miya's room and closed the door. The rumble of his cart continued through the hallways unimpeded as he wondered about what kind of stamp he would place on the letter. 
~~~
     It had been a little over a week since Annabelle had received her last letter. She woke up sharply, and as soon as she realized she was conscious she shot up like a rocket and marched out of her bed. She went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of long, horizontally striped, black and white socks. She pulled them over her legs and admired them in the sunlight drifting through her window briefly. She put on a pair of denim shorts and a long sleeved shirt that was also black and white, but it was vertically striped. She wandered to the bathroom and came out with hair that was still messy, but her teeth were much shinier. 
     She began to think about what she would want to do with her Saturday. As she did, she settled herself onto the floor, right in the middle of the living room. She didn't turn the television on, and she didn't reach for a book on the shelf. She simply thought. 
     Her mom and dad came out of their bedroom a half hour later, and they smiled at her. She didn't smile back, lost in her own mind. However, when her dad came close and scooped her up in his arms and rubbed his scratchy short facial hair against her cheek as he embraced her, she didn't fuss at all. 
     He put her back down and went to start making breakfast. She liked the fact that he was doing it and not her mom. Her mom made extremely delicious savory dishes, but she was in the mood for something different.
     "I want pancakes." She said absently.
     Her mom heard what she'd said and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. 
     Annabelle immediately realized what she'd done wrong. 
     "Please." Annabelle said quietly, maintaining her nonchalant expression.
     "Please what?" Her mom asked, her stern appearance softening.
     "I want..." She stopped herself and mused briefly about the right way to say the words. "Can we have pancakes, please?"
     Her mom glanced at her dad. He looked extremely serious, and it was clear that he hadn't heard the interaction between Annabelle and her mom.
     "Honey, did you hear Annabelle?"
     "What?" He looked up, his eyes focused. "No, I didn't. Where's the pancake mix? I can't find it."
     Her mom smirked and chuckled a little bit at the serendipity of the moment, then shrugged at Annabelle. She started helping her husband look for the pancake mix. 
     Annabelle watched them from her position on the living room floor calmly. She knew the pancake mix was on top of the refrigerator because she'd helped her dad put it away last time he'd used it, but she wondered how long it would take for her parents to find it. A small part of her reveled at the feeling of being in the know and watching her parents stumble around.
     She frowned.
     "Mom, it's on top of the fridge." She said neutrally. 
     "Got it! Thanks."
     "Mhm."
     She laid down on the floor of the living room; technically, she was on top of a carpet, but in her opinion the difference was negligible. She felt a little bad about thinking that way about her parents. She realized serenely that she'd successfully warded off the temptation to do the wrong thing once again, and she smiled. She enjoyed the idea of the devil trying to get her to do the wrong thing, and her making him mad whenever she didn't do it. 
     Once breakfast was ready, she sat down at the table and listened to her dad pray, then tucked into the pancakes as quickly as she could. In her opinion, they were very good pancakes. 
     "Don't you think these are too sweet?" Her mom said to her dad after two bites. 
     Her dad looked thoughtful for a moment.
     "Not really." He said, before cutting himself another slice of pancake and dipping it into the pool of syrup he'd poured onto his plate.
     Her mom leaned her chin on her hand and sighed, then looked at Annabelle.
     "You two have the worst habits with sweets." She said with a playful smile. 
     There was a knock at the front door, then Annabelle's older brother stepped in. He was wearing the pilot jacket that her mom said made him look handsome. His tousled brown hair was matted down, and Annabelle knew it was because he'd been flying again; his headset always made his hair look funny.
     He waved at his family; Annabelle's eyes widened and she smiled.
     He was holding a white envelope.