The office is quiet, almost unnaturally so.
Files are scattered across the desk like the remains of a careful battle. Open. Half-read. The silence presses in from all sides, thick and patient, waiting for something to break it.
I sit in my chair, leaning back against the soft leather, the weight of the day settling deep in my bones. One file rests open in my hand, but my eyes have stopped reading. The words blur at the edges, slipping away from meaning like water through my fingers. I rub my eyes lightly, the pads of my fingers pressing against the tired ache behind my lids.
I feel sleepy.
The thought arrives gently, unbidden, like a visitor who knows they're welcome. I've been pushing through for a while.
I need to focus. The new project is waiting. But my body is pulling me elsewhere, toward a rest I cannot seem to reach.
I slept well last night, yet somehow, I still feel exhausted. For just a moment, I let myself close my eyes.
Just a moment. Just to rest.
