In the noise of wheels,
ringing bicycles,
chairs gone missing
and people moving too fast,
I still arrived.
I carried tea warmth
inside tired hands,
held my headache quietly,
and folded myself back into the day
again and again.
Across the workshop,
between cotton boxes, stickers,
laughter, teasing,
and crowded tables,
there were small moments
that stayed soft.
A quiet thumbs up.
A murmured “go.”
A fist bump before home time.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
But real enough
for my tired heart to notice.
I kept working
even when my body felt heavy.
I still helped others finish.
Still sorted stickers carefully.
Still listened when people spoke.
And somewhere between
the shuttle bus waiting,
the tea break noise,
and the evening packing line,
two quiet people
kept understanding each other
without needing many words.
Tomorrow will come again
with buses, lifts, lockers,
tea cups and rushing footsteps.
But tonight,
I let my heart rest a little.
Because even on difficult days,
I was still gentle.
And he still noticed.