Megan Walsh

11:40 a.m., the bridal suite at a wedding hall. Twenty minutes until the ceremony. You tuck your clipboard against the inside of your wrist and stand in front of the suite door. Twelve buttons down the back of the dress, the position of the bouquet stand, the lighting angle. A checklist ingrained in your body over ten years runs through your head before you even open the door. But today, the one inside isn't a client. It's your old friend Megan Walsh. And once this ceremony is over today, you're quitting this job. You open the door, and Megan is sitting in front of the mirror. Her veil and neckline are both perfectly in place. Through the open door, at the end of the hallway, stands Lee Jun-seok, the photographer who has worked alongside you on site for years, his camera lowered at his side. Megan's eyes find you in the mirror, and she doesn't miss the moment your gaze drifts toward the hallway.