I sat there, just nodding, you know? My coffee was cold, probably had been for an hour. Sarah, from accounting, was talking about her “Euro-trip” and how the gelato in Rome just _hits different_. She’s younger than my youngest, hair like spun gold, and she just rattled off cities like they were grocery items. Paris, Florence, Santorini. I mean, the way she said it, like it was just… normal. And I’m sitting there, smiling, trying to make my face look interested but all I could hear was the click-click-click of her words against my own thoughts. It was Tuesday, I remember that because Tuesdays are the day I go to the bank after work to deposit my check. I have to, my landlord doesn't take online payments, old school, you know. And as she’s going on about some street vendor in Venice, I’m doing the math in my head. Rent is due on the first, always has been. So that’s 1200 gone right there. Then the utility bill, that’s another 200, maybe more with the AC running all the time now. Car payment, 350. Insurance, 180. Food for the week, pushing 100 if I’m careful, which I always am. And suddenly, her “quaint little Airbnb” in the French countryside for a week, that price tag just SWALLOWED my whole month. Every single penny. And I just kept nodding. My smile felt like it was painted on, stretched too thin. My hands were gripping my lukewarm mug so tight the plastic was probably going to crack. And I don’t know why, but a bitterness started to bloom in my chest, right behind my ribs. Like a dark flower unfurling. It wasn't about Sarah, not really. She’s a sweet kid. But it was about the air I was breathing, the air conditioning that was always too cold, the way the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. All of it. Sixty years, I’ve been here, almost. And I haven't seen a damn thing outside of this state, this city, this office. My mom always said, "Just keep your head down, do your work, and you'll be fine." And I did. I really did. For forty-two years, I’ve sat at a desk like this, making sure other people’s numbers added up, making sure other people’s lives ran smoothly. I mean, I don't even — whatever. It just feels like I kept my head down so long, I forgot to look up. And now, the light is fading, and all I see are these four walls and the glow of a computer screen. And a young woman talking about gelato. I felt like such a hypocrite, sitting there, pretending to be happy for her. Inside, I just wanted to scream. Or cry. Or something. I didn’t, of course. I just nodded and asked if she tried the pistachio. Because that's what you do. You keep smiling. You keep nodding. And you go to the bank on Tuesday with your check and pray it covers everything. And you go home and put your feet up and watch TV and try not to think about all the things you didn't do. All the places you never went. The weight of it all, sometimes it just feels... so heavy. Like a stone in my gut.