At 1:00 a.m., the office building\u2019s central air conditioning had already shut off, and the air was thick with the stifling scent of carpet cleaner mixed with stale coffee. Ethan tapped the final Enter key\u2014save, send. The screen\u2019s pale blue glow cast a shadow across his face, like a layer of frost he couldn\u2019t shake off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was the only one left on the entire floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He rubbed his aching neck and got up to wash his cup in the break room. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered on one by one, then flickered off one by one behind him, like a tunnel of light that was swallowing him whole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cStill here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A deep voice came from the shadows. Ethan startled and turned to see Old Ma leaning halfway out of the security monitoring room, holding a chipped thermos.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, just finished up.\u201d Ethan tugged at the corner of his mouth in a half-hearted greeting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Old Ma nodded, asking no further questions, and simply fished a mint out from the desk, passing it across the table. Ethan paused for a moment before taking it, his fingertips brushing against the slightly cool texture of the wrapper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHave something sweet\u2014it\u2019ll clear your head a bit,\u201d Old Ma said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan unwrapped the candy, and the cool flavor melted on his tongue, like a small flake of snow landing on his burning forehead. He suddenly remembered that Old Ma had been a security guard in this building for twelve years and had seen countless young people like him leaving late at night. Those hurried footsteps, weary silhouettes, and moments of silent sighs at their phone screens\u2014Old Ma had probably witnessed them all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy daughter\u2019s just like that,\u201d Old Ma said suddenly, his gaze fixed on the sparse stream of traffic outside the window. \u201cShe works as a designer in the building next door. The last time I brought her lunch, she\u2019d fallen asleep with her head on the desk, still clutching her mouse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ethan didn\u2019t say anything; he just nodded slightly. He was a little tired\u2014he didn\u2019t need comfort, just to be seen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He packed up his backpack and headed for the elevator. Old Ma called out from behind him, \u201cTake it easy on your way home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The elevator doors closed slowly, and Ethan watched the floor numbers tick down one by one. Beyond the glass curtain wall, the city\u2019s lights resembled a silent sea. He suddenly realized that he wasn\u2019t the only one in this building staying up late. Those lit windows, the lights left on, and the warm water in the security guard\u2019s office\u2014all of it was a kind of silent companionship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Stepping out of the building, the night breeze felt slightly cool. Ethan took a deep breath, letting the coolness of the mint candy sink into his heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Tomorrow, it would all start again. But at least tonight, someone had remembered to give him a piece of candy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This story has a quiet, healing tone. Would you like me to write a version on the same theme but with a touch of dark humor? You can see which one suits your taste better.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Working Overtime Until Only the Security Guard and I Were Left<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":535,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[23,18,19],"class_list":["post-534","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-heal","tag-feeling","tag-story","tag-work"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/534","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=534"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/534\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":536,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/534\/revisions\/536"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/535"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=534"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=534"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storyrecyclebin.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=534"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}