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Resting Chair
墨書 Inktalez
The neon lights had not yet completely extinguished, and the gray-blue morning light filtered through the gaps between the towering buildings, as if sketching the outline of the city with its faint glow. The traffic was congested, resembling a river blocked by boulders, moving sluggishly, with each vehicle pressed closely against one another. Drivers either rubbed their foreheads in frustration or impatiently honked their horns. The harsh sounds echoed like an invisible language in the air, interspersed with occasional complaints and curses. A few impatient motorcycles attempted to weave through the gaps, their engines roaring, adding to the morning's clamor.
On the sidewalk, pedestrians hurried past each other like a silent race. Some office workers donned neatly pressed suits, their briefcases swinging as they spoke urgently into their earphones; groups of students laughed and chatted animatedly, their voices rising at times, seemingly more excited by last night's gossip than by their early classes. Elderly individuals walked slowly, carrying shopping bags, their calm gazes observing the bustling scene around them, as if time passed more slowly for them. The sound of shoes striking the pavement merged into a chaotic yet lively melody, footsteps, conversations, and ringing phones blending with the wind to create a unique urban symphony.
The morning breeze carried a chill from winter, brushing against everyone's cheeks and lifting the collars and scarves of passersby. Street vendors hurriedly set up their stalls, with steaming breakfast carts becoming the warmest presence on the streets. A pancake vendor flipped golden pancakes on a hot griddle, the aroma wafting quickly through the air; fried dough sticks sizzled in hot oil, producing an enticing crackling sound. Nearby, a vendor called out loudly, waving a bag in hand to attract passersby with a tone that mixed sincerity and urgency: "Fresh buns! Hot soy milk, come try it!" Next to him, a stall selling trinkets displayed colorful phone charms and cheap earrings, with its owner occasionally shouting to draw more attention.
Though the street's temperature was lowered by the cold weather, the throngs of people brought another kind of warmth. The breath of pedestrians turned into puffs of white mist that quickly dissipated in the cold air, while each person's gaze carried their own objectives; their hurried steps were filled with purpose. In the distance, the sounds of machinery from a construction site echoed—a rhythmic clanging of steel colliding reminded everyone of this city's relentless pace.
This was a city morning—chaotic and noisy yet brimming with vitality. It resembled a vast and intricate machine, its countless gears turning in preparation for a new day ahead, sending each person along their own destined path.
A crowded bus screeched to a halt at the roadside; before its doors fully opened, a man swiftly squeezed out. He wore a wrinkled shirt and an old jacket, clutching a black briefcase tightly as if guarding his last shred of dignity. His other hand pressed a phone to his ear, speaking in a low but hurried tone: "Yes, I understand. I'll be there soon... I won’t be late; you can count on me... Alright, I’ll handle it." His voice carried an undercurrent of anxiety and appeasement as if every second's delay could lead to greater trouble.
He had barely taken a few steps when an all-too-familiar pain suddenly shot through his waist—a warning creeping from deep within him. The dull ache made him stiffen slightly; he furrowed his brow as his expression twisted momentarily before he forced himself to mask the discomfort without letting out even a whisper. Taking a deep breath, he tried to adjust his stride to appear unaffected while subconsciously hunching his shoulders under pressure.
The crowd surged around him as pedestrians brushed past without noticing the subtle change in his expression. His grip on the phone remained tight as he continued speaking with suppressed urgency: "I’m sorry; I just got off the bus. Give me ten more minutes; I’m really sorry..." His tone conveyed an insistence that brooked no refusal but hinted at an underlying helplessness. He moved forward despite struggling not to appear unsteady; each step seemed to tug at that hidden pain.
The cold wind whipped against him; his scarf fluttered slightly as he found no place for his empty hand and tried to reach for his waist but restrained himself instead. He glanced down at his watch hurriedly; his brow furrowed deeper as if time always moved faster than he did while he bore an unwelcome burden that did not belong to him—hastily chasing after this city's relentless pace.
The man hurried across the sidewalk as the cold wind howled past his ears, lifting the hem of his coat. His footsteps rang sharply against the ground as he quickly dodged incoming crowds while mentally organizing his upcoming schedule and tasks. When he finally looked up, he saw the familiar company building looming ahead. The massive structure stood like a silent beast at the heart of the city, its imposing presence outlined by morning light that traced sharp lines across its surface—silently asserting its unshakeable status.
His steps paused momentarily at the entrance as he instinctively took a deep breath; the icy air filled his lungs and cleared some fog from his mind. He lifted his gaze over the enormous corporate logo on the building's facade before stepping through the transparent glass doors into this place he knew all too well. As he entered the lobby, there was an immediate drop in temperature—the air conditioning felt like sharp blades grazing his cheeks. He instinctively straightened his back as if this cold environment demanded absolute vigilance from everyone who entered.
Inside the lobby, dark golden ceilings and streamlined beam columns created an understated yet luxurious atmosphere. The bright marble floor was spotless and mirrored his reflection perfectly; beside it stood several meticulously trimmed plants that softened its overall starkness. The central chandelier sparkled like stars above him—its light neither blinding nor dim but just right to illuminate this space's grandeur and prestige.
The man's gaze swept over everything, and a surge of pride and self-satisfaction welled up within him. The corners of his mouth involuntarily lifted, and his chest puffed out slightly, as if he were filled with the power that this environment exuded. "Ah, this is the company I serve," he silently mused, feeling that his efforts and perseverance were reflected in every inch of this building's bricks and mortar. Even though fatigue and pressure shadowed him like a ghost, each time he stood here, he reminded himself that simply being able to work in such a place was a success in itself.
The elevator doors opened, revealing a space already packed with people, yet a few newcomers were still squeezed in. These fresh recruits were like sardines crammed into a can, desperately trying to shrink their bodies against the elevator walls, shoulders hunched low, eyes carefully fixed on the floor, afraid that a careless move might bump into an experienced colleague and invite unnecessary trouble. The air was thick with tension and awkwardness, which became even more pronounced with the slight swaying of the elevator as it ascended.
Meanwhile, the man stood firmly in the center of the elevator, his feet planted steadily on the floor, exuding an air of calm indifference to the surrounding crowd and discomfort. His shoulders relaxed naturally, his briefcase hanging casually from his hand—neither overly deliberate nor disrespectful—a standard posture of an experienced employee. Yes, he was seasoned; it was only natural for him to occupy the "noble zone" of the elevator—the very middle—enjoying the slightly more spacious area as if possessing this small patch of space symbolized his status in the workplace.
How could he describe that feeling? The man chuckled inwardly; it was exhilarating—yes, absolutely exhilarating! He lifted his head and glanced at the rookies pressed against the corners of the elevator, almost seeing his former self reflected in them. Looking down at his own feet, he thought, ah, this is the evolutionary path of a career—moving from the periphery to the center, each step built upon time and sweat.
He exchanged a glance with some fellow veterans nearby; they nodded subtly at each other in mutual understanding without needing words. It was a camaraderie and pride unique to those who had been around longer. A subtle sense of pride flickered in their eyes; within this sardine-can-like elevator, they were not just ordinary office workers but a group standing at the pinnacle of their profession. Even as the elevator grew more crowded and rookies floundered around them, the veterans maintained an elegant and relaxed demeanor, as if even this confined space could showcase their stature.
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