Monday morning looks the same on the building's glass doors.
Same badge swipe.
Same elevator music you used to mock together.
Same open-plan noise.
What changed is invisible to most of the floor.
The office affair ended.
Maybe by choice.
Maybe by discovery elsewhere.
Maybe by a slow mutual agreement that the secret was costing too much.
Either way, you still report to the same org chart.
You still pass the same kitchen.
You still sit inside calendars that assume professionalism while your body remembers something else.



