At what point did "temporary" become "permanent"?
At what point did running toward something become running away?
Jake closed his eyes and thought about tomorrow. Wednesday. Pork bun day.
Maybe he'd sit down. Maybe he'd stay. Maybe he'd take one small step toward having a life instead of just a routine.
Or maybe he'd do what he always did: order, pay, leave. Keep everything simple. Keep everyone at arm's length.
Keep pretending that not feeling anything was the same as being strong.
Through the wall, his neighbor dropped something that sounded like a stack of pans. Jake smiled despite himself. At least someone in this building was living messily, chaotically, humanly.
At least someone was making noise.
Monday was Lucy's day off, which meant she was at the bakery by 7 AM doing paperwork.
This was not technically working, she told herself. This was administrative necessity. If she didn't review supply ordersand respond to emails and update the inventory spreadsheet, everything would fall apart. Mae couldn't do it—Mae was a college student with her own schedule. Sara, the new part-time baker Lucy had hired last week after Rei's nagging, was still learning the recipes.
So here Lucy was, on her supposed day off, sitting at her corner table with her laptop and a stack of invoices.
The bakery was closed, which meant it was blissfully quiet. No customers asking questions, no phone ringing, no Mae humming along to her indie playlists. Just Lucy, her coffee, and the soft sounds of the building settling around her.
She'd gotten through three supply orders when her phone buzzed.
Rei:what are you doing right now
Lucy:Nothing. Relaxing. Taking my day off.
Rei:liar. you're at the bakery doing paperwork aren't you
Lucy:...
Lucy:How did you know?
Rei:because I know you. stop working. it's literally your ONE day off.
Lucy:I'm just finishing a few things.
Rei:lucy chen I swear to god
Lucy:FINE. I'll leave in an hour.
Rei:you'll leave NOW. I'm tracking your location. if you're still at the bakery in 10 minutes I'm coming over there and physically removing you
Lucy:That seems extreme.
Rei:desperate times. GO HOME. TAKE A NAP. READ A BOOK. BE A HUMAN PERSON.
Lucy sighed and closed her laptop. Rei was right—she was always right—but the thought of going back to her apartment with nothing to do made Lucy's skin itch. What was she supposed to do with free time? She'd forgotten how to have hobbies. Forgotten how to just... be.
She packed up her things and headed for the stairs to her apartment. Might as well do laundry. That was productive but not technically working. A good compromise.
Her apartment was directly above the bakery, accessible through an internal staircase or the separate entrance on the side of the building. It was small—one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that was basically a hallway—but it was hers. Her grandmother had lived here for forty years before moving to the nursing home in her final months.
Lucy had changed almost nothing when she moved in five years ago. Same furniture, same dishes, same floral curtains that were probably from the 1990s. It felt wrong to change things, like she'd be erasing her grandmother's presence.
The laundry was in the basement, shared with the other tenants in the building. Lucy gathered her clothes and headed down the narrow back stairs.
