At 9:30 p.m., the office building’s central air conditioning had already shut off, and the air was filled with the dry, musty smell of printer toner mixed with cold coffee. Emma stared at the densely packed spreadsheets on her screen, her eyes feeling sore and swollen as if they’d been sanded down. This was her fourth consecutive day of overtime; her neck was as stiff as a rusty gear, each turn bringing a dull ache.
She instinctively reached for the mug beside her, but her fingertips met only coldness. At the bottom of the cup lay the remnants of a half-finished iced Americano from hours earlier; the ice had long since melted into a bitter, light-brown puddle. Emma sighed and pushed the mug away; the sour, bitter sensation rising from her stomach was even more unpleasant than the coffee itself.
She stood up and walked toward the break room. The motion-sensor lights at the end of the hallway lit up one by one as she walked, then silently went out behind her, like a solitary relay race. The break room was empty, with only the faint hum of the water cooler breaking the silence. Emma pressed the red “warm water” button and watched as the water trickled into her cup, sending up a wisp of faint white mist.
She carried the cup back to her desk. Instead of drinking right away, she cupped her hands around the sides of the cup. The water wasn’t scalding, but its warmth seeped through her palms into her skin just right—like a silent embrace, soothing her frayed nerves. She looked down and took a small sip; the warm liquid slid down her throat, and her stomach, which had been clenched with anxiety, seemed to relax slightly in that moment.
Outside the window, the city’s neon lights continued to flicker, and the stream of traffic on the elevated highway merged into a flowing river of light. Emma looked at her reflection in the glass—her dark circles were quite pronounced, and her hair was casually tied back—but the restlessness in her eyes, which had been on the verge of breaking her, seemed to be slowly settling away with this cup of warm water.
In the adult world, there aren’t that many earth-shattering moments of redemption. We don’t need anyone to save us, nor do we need all our problems solved immediately. Sometimes, the simple act of sipping a cup of warm water is enough to pull us away from our suffocating reality for a moment.
Emma let out a long exhale and drained the cup of warm water in one gulp. She placed her hands back on the keyboard; the glow from the screen illuminated her face. Though she was still exhausted, a small, soft space seemed to have opened up inside her heart.
Tomorrow would bring more of the same, but at least for this moment, she felt warm.
