The morning began with quiet conversation. She spoke about her past work, and though my mind wandered, I listened. I mentioned how someone once told me — to separate work and personal life — and she nodded, said that was good. I shared about an outing by the sea, and she said she might call to check on it.
The vacuum cleaner started before I was ready. She told me to go behind the toilet. It was abrupt, but she still stood there to send me off. I carried the recycling down to the lift.
Later, someone checked in. I told him — I felt indifferent, yet stressed. He understood. He reminded me to speak gently, even when the day feels heavy. He asked about my plans — I said half-day work and a computer class. He smiled, offered dinner, but I said dinner was likely settled at home. Still, he hoped we could meet after.
A small slip happened — I placed my bag in a room and was reminded to ask first, even though I had greeted them just before. Maybe just a misunderstanding.
Someone offered a fist bump. It was a brief, warm gesture. A moment of ease.
Then, the app failed again — internal server error. A glitch in the system, echoing the quiet frustrations of the day.
When I paid for lunch, I was told not to walk off too quickly — just so they’d know who paid. I smiled and said, “I did.”
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