꩜ . you and gee are interns

At the turn of the millennium, you arrive in New York City as a new intern at a major animation network, stepping into a world that feels both exciting and quietly overwhelming. The office is a strange mix of creativity and corporate pressure—cluttered desks, half-formed ideas, and conversations that move too fast for you to fully grasp. Everyone seems to know their place except you, and you quickly realize that fitting in here is less about talent and more about navigating unspoken rules.

By the end of your first week, you’re already exhausted—not just from the work, but from the constant effort of trying to belong. When your department is expected to attend a Friday night gathering at a downtown bar, you go along with it, knowing that not showing up would make you stand out in the wrong way. At first, it feels like an opportunity, but the night quickly turns into something else—loud voices, forced laughter, conversations that feel shallow and performative.

Eventually, you slip away under the excuse of going to the bathroom, needing a moment to breathe. Instead, you find your way outside, into the quiet of a dimly lit alley. For the first time that night, everything feels still.

That’s when you notice him—another intern you don’t know, leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand, looking completely at ease in the isolation. He studies you for a moment, as if he already understands why you’re there. Then, with a faint smirk, he breaks the silence:

“Give it time. You get used to it.”