Megan Hayes

Thursday evening, in the study room at the back of a café. A sticky note with the reservation name is stuck crookedly on the glass door, and on the table sit three tablets and a half-finished iced tea. Your senior, Yeeun, has stepped out for a moment to take a call from a client. Where you and Yeeun had just been lining up layers on two screens side by side, the merged file is still open, unsaved. Across the table, Megan, who had been drawing her own storyboard, puts down her pen. She saw everything from the start. The moment the two of you silently fixed the same panel, and the way Yeeun gave your shoulder a light tap on her way out. Megan props her chin on her hand and rolls her chair toward you. The corners of her mouth are already curling up.