7:30 in the morning.
The alarm rang unusually loud today shrill and insistent, like it knew I didn't want to wake up. It jolted me upright. For a moment, I just sat there on the edge of my bed, letting the haze fade from my eyes and my thoughts catch up to the present.
The room was dim, the soft blue light of the morning sun bleeding in through the half-open curtains. Dust floated gently in the air, lit faintly like drifting snow in a dream. My hand reached out on instinct, silencing the alarm with a tired press, and the sudden quiet that followed felt almost too still.
I rubbed my face, dragging a sigh through my palms. The weight of another routine day settled on my shoulders before my feet even touched the floor.
After a minute or two of simply sitting there, I finally stood. My legs felt heavier than usual not from sleep, but from something less physical. A kind of quiet reluctance. Still, I moved.
I pulled my wardrobe door open, grabbed my dark work trousers and that pale blue shirt I wore every other day. It was ironed, still carrying the faint scent of detergent. As I slipped it on, I heard the muffled sounds of the city beginning to stir outside cars rolling down the street, a dog barking two blocks away, and the occasional hum of a motorbike speeding past.
In the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face and stared into the mirror. My eyes were a little sunken, my hair a mess of sleep-flattened curls. Not the worst version of myself, but far from anything bright.
I brushed my teeth in silence, my mind wandering. Another day at Skystores. Another shift behind the counter, another row of customers, another routine lunch break. Nothing different. Nothing unexpected.
But something about today felt... unsettled.
Maybe it was the alarm. Maybe it was the sky a little clear, a little too cloudy. Or maybe it was just me again, reaching for meaning in a life I've forgotten how to dream in.
I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind me with a familiar click. The narrow hallway outside smelled faintly of varnish and leftover curry two constants of this old building. My footsteps echoed softly as I made my way down the stairs.
Outside, the city air greeted me not too warm, not too cold, but heavy with the scent of damp concrete. The sky was thick with low, drifting clouds, soft and gray like they were too tired to rain. I paused for a moment at the edge of the sidewalk and looked up.
Clouds.
Sometimes I wish I were a cloud.
Just a weightless shape drifting endlessly through an infinite sky, untouched by people, places, or pressure. Clouds don't stay still. They don't carry bags of guilt or numbers in their heads. They don't owe anyone anything.
They just move.
They always looked so free from down here, didn't they? Wandering wherever the wind pleased, untouched by schedules or alarms or anything pulling them down. I envied them in a quiet, irrational way how they could just exist, floating through the vastness of the sky while I walked the same path every day with a bag full of folded uniforms and no idea where I was heading in life.
But I'm not a cloud. I'm a boy with a wallet that's always too thin and a home that depends on me more than I'd like to admit. No one in my family asked me to carry the weight — but I picked it up anyway. Somewhere between seeing my mother work double shifts and my father's quiet exhaustion, I decided I couldn't just float. I had to be grounded.
So I work. And I study. And I try to outrun this feeling that I'm already falling behind in a life that hasn't even really started. I just graduated high school last month. University starts next week. Everyone keeps telling me I should be excited. But all I feel is tired.
This morning, the sky was a deep blue the kind that almost dares you to dream. I caught a glimpse of it between the buildings as I walked toward the train station, bag slung over one shoulder, earbuds in, not playing music just drowning out the noise. I let my eyes drift up for a moment. The clouds were moving so slowly, so effortlessly. It almost hurt to look at them.
I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag and started walking. The streets were slowly coming alive a vendor opening his fruit cart, a kid in a school uniform pulling at his mother's hand, a cyclist weaving through traffic like it was a game.
The store wasn't far just a fifteen-minute walk through back roads and alleys I'd memorized by heart. Along the way, I passed the same old bookstore with the faded sign, the same café that never opened before 10, and the same cracked wall that had been "under renovation" for the last three months.
I didn't mind the walk. It gave me time to think not that thinking ever got me anywhere useful.
As I turned the final corner, I could already see the Skystores sign flickering to life. The sliding glass doors were still closed, but the lights were on inside. Another day was beginning.
I took one last glance at the sky, at the drifting clouds overhead.
Be free for me, I thought, knowing they never would.
Then I stepped forward, into the world I was bound to.
I reached SkyStores by 9:45 AM. The air conditioning greeted me like a refrigerated slap to the face. The sliding glass doors opened with a mechanical sigh, and the familiar beep of a restocking scanner rang from somewhere in the back.
"Morning, Ken," I said as I passed the produce corner.
He gave a brief grunt from behind a crate of cabbages, lifting one with practiced ease and tossing it into the display basket.
"Andy! You're early, man," came a cheerful voice from across the store.
It was Jasmine, stationed at cashier 3 as always. She wore a bright green apron that somehow made her seem even more awake than the store's overhead lights. Her long black hair, streaked naturally with a subtle shade of gray, was tied loosely over one shoulder. Even that seemed effortlessly elegant.
I gave her a tired smile. "Habit."
Ken and Jasmine the two coworkers I probably respect the most. Friendly. Easygoing. The kind of people who seemed to float through life like leaves on a gentle breeze. Nothing ever rattled them. Or at least, if it did, they never let it show.
Ken, in his early twenties, was tall with fair skin and a slightly rugged look a bit of stubble along his jaw and a build that made heavy lifting look effortless. When I first joined, he was the one who trained me. Patient to a fault, always walking me through the stockroom layout or proper checkout flow, even when I messed up more than I should've. He never raised his voice, never made me feel small. Just smiled, corrected me, and kept moving.
Jasmine had a presence that was less physical, more... soothing. She spoke in a soft, melodic tone the kind of voice that could calm nerves you didn't even know you had. Though she wasn't much older than me, she carried herself like someone who had already figured out her place in the world. Beautiful, yes undeniably so but in a way that didn't feel distant. She was warm, like sunlight through a window.
Both of them studied Arts and Literature at Sky University, a sleek, ivy-covered institution at the edge of the city owned, like everything else that mattered, by the CEO of Skystores. The man really was obsessed with the sky.
And who could blame him?
Sky University was the kind of place people like me could only admire from afar. Elite programs, sprawling glass libraries, lectures from real authors and scholars. The kind of school that made you believe in the possibility of a future that actually meant something.
If things were different... maybe I could've studied there too.
But for now, I stocked shelves and scanned barcodes beneath flickering lights and the quiet hum of freezer units.
In the backroom, I swapped my hoodie for my blue uniform shirt, clipped on my name tag Andrew and tied the apron around my waist. The schedule was already up on the whiteboard:
10:00 AM – 11:30 AM: Shelf restocking11:30 AM – 1:00 PM: Register duty1:00 PM – 2:00 PM: Lunch break2:00 PM – 6:00 PM: Cashier rotation and cleaning
Another day, same cycle.
I started with the dry goods aisle box in hand, trying to find space for six new jars of imported pasta sauce that apparently came in early. The shelf was already full, so I had to reorganize the tomato puree, move the ramen packs over, and awkwardly fit the jars beside the olive oil bottles.
Then came the boxed tea section. Peppermint and ginger-honey. I stocked them alphabetically, only to realize someone had already labeled the wrong row. I fixed it quietly, like always.
By 11:30, I was behind Register Two. The line wasn't too long, mostly regulars.
"Morning, Andrew" said an old lady with a cane, her cart half full of yogurt and cat food. "Your hair's grown longer, hasn't it?"
I smiled faintly. "Yeah, I've been too busy to cut it."
She chuckled. "That's how I know you're a good kid. Only busy people forget themselves."
A man in a suit dropped a can of coffee on the counter and didn't say a word. I scanned it, gave him his receipt, and he left without even looking up. Some people treat cashiers like vending machines with voices.
Others... just need a little kindness.
"Thanks again, Andrew" said a middle-aged woman who always asked for double bags even if she only bought one thing. "My daughter said she might apply here next month. You'll train her if she joins, right?"
I nodded. "Sure."
Time passed slowly, like always. But I didn't mind. There was something peaceful about the buzz of barcodes and the rhythmic beep of items being scanned.
At 6:03 PM, just as I was taking off my apron and about to head home, the store manager called out from the office doorway.
"Andrew, got a second?"
I nodded and walked over.
He waved me inside. The office was warm, slightly cluttered paper files stacked on top of each other, a half-eaten melon bread on the desk, and the faint scent of instant coffee lingering in the air.
"You've been with us for, what, over a year now?" he said, leaning back in his chair.
"Yeah, almost one and half year" I replied.
"You looking for an university I suppose."
I nodded. "Yes. I am sir"
He nodded back, slowly. "You've been reliable, Andy. Quiet, but solid. You don't complain, don't slack off. That's rare."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I just gave a small shrug.
"You ever think about what you wanna do long-term?" he asked, leaning forward. "Like, beyond working here?"
I hesitated. "I'm not sure yet. I just want to help my family right now. After that… maybe something creative. Maybe writing."
"Writing, huh?" he smiled. "Didn't expect that. But makes sense."
He glanced at a paper on his desk, then looked back up.
"They're opening a new convenience branch near the Sky university. Just a small place. Quiet. The company wants someone dependable there during startup. Someone who won't mess it up."
I blinked. "You want to transfer me?"
"Only if you're okay with it. Starts next week. You'll be working with one other staff member from another branch. But it's a clean slate. Less pressure. And maybe... a bit of fresh air."
A new store.
A new place.
Maybe, just maybe… a change in the wind.
All those thoughts goes through as I prepared for my new beginnings.