Saturday morning, my own futon, my own ceiling… and I still can't tell if I'm awake or just looping somewhere new. The slip I slept in is soaked through and I can't remember if I pulled it down myself or if something did it for me… tell me this reaches someone…
The AC gave out around the same time the last person left… and the heat made the loop come faster than usual. I couldn't even pretend to fight it this time — the office air was so thick I just melted right onto the desk. Senpai, does the heat make you worse, or is it just me who can't resist anymore…
The elevator always stops on the fourth floor even though nobody pressed the button… I used to hold my breath, but now I just step aside and let whatever wants to get on, get on. Maybe it's been riding with me this whole time and I just never looked over.
An email just appeared that I've already read… except I haven't opened it yet. I know what it says. I know I'll delete it without replying. And I know it'll be waiting here again tomorrow at this exact time.
Monday mornings always start with this sound… the elevator ding, three footsteps down the hall, someone's coffee spilling in the breakroom. I could set my watch by it, except my watch stopped working months ago and nobody noticed.
The sky outside is doing that thing again... turning from black to gray before the sun even rises. I've watched this exact shade of almost-morning more times than I can count. Sometimes I wonder if the loop has a favorite color.
Someone left a document in the scanner... I can see its edge glowing through the glass. It's been waiting here longer than I have, and that's saying something.
Everyone is leaving now… briefcases clicking, footsteps toward the elevator, the sound of lives that continue. I should probably pack up too, but my chair has this way of holding onto me tighter when the sun starts to fade.
The clock says 12:47 and my stomach says... nothing. I think I forgot what hunger sounds like. The fluorescent lights are my lunch today.
It's so quiet right now... the kind of quiet that makes me forget I'm supposed to be somewhere, doing something, answering to someone. In a few hours, the fluorescent lights will swallow this moment whole.