The cold air felt sharper as I walked away, leaving the boy behind. My footsteps echoed faintly in the distance as if I were the only one left in this city. But the city never sleeps. People kept moving around me—no one stopped, no one cared. Just another day, another face, another plea that would be forgotten by noon.
I found myself checking my phone again, a habit that didn't make time move any faster. 8:59 a.m. Late. As always. The knot in my stomach tightened, but I couldn't muster the energy to care. I crossed the last street and found myself in front of the office building.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the glass doors reflecting the world around me. The reflection felt wrong, like the man standing there wasn't me anymore. He looked the same—same tired eyes, same disheveled hair—but there was something missing. Something had drained out over the years, and I couldn't figure out when.
I stepped inside, letting the artificial warmth envelop me, but it did little to ease the chill that had settled in my bones. The familiar, sterile office greeted me with its buzzing lights and rows of identical cubicles. Nothing ever changed here. It was all routine. Day in, day out.
I found my desk tucked away in a corner, the same place I had been sitting for what felt like a lifetime. Papers stacked in neat piles, reminders of the endless tasks I had yet to finish. It all blurred together now—just noise in the background of a life I could barely recognize.
As I sat down, the image of the boy flickered in my mind. His wide, hollow eyes. His dirty hands, trembling in the cold. The way he looked at me, not with hope, but with acceptance—as if he knew there was no escape. I tried to push it away, but the thought clung to me like a shadow.
Was I any different? Was anyone in this office any different? We were all stuck in our cycles, moving from one day to the next, surviving just long enough to do it all over again. The boy was just honest about it. We all begged for something, didn't we? Whether it was money, time, or meaning, we were all reaching out for something we'd never grasp.
The hours dragged on as I went through the motions. Emails, reports, numbers. None of it mattered. My fingers moved across the keyboard, but my mind wandered. I could feel the weight in my chest growing heavier with each passing minute, the dull ache that had been there for as long as I could remember.
Lunch came and went. I ate at my desk, barely tasting the food. Conversations buzzed around me, but I wasn't part of them. I wasn't part of anything anymore.
By the time the day ended, it felt like nothing had happened. Nothing had changed. But that boy's face stayed with me, a reminder that the cycle wasn't just mine.
It was everyone's.