There's this weird dead zone in the office that hits around 4:49 PM. The day isn't officially over, but everyone's already mentally packed up and left. Emails trickle in slower, keyboards barely make a sound, and people just... stare. Not at anything in particular, just into the distance, hoping the clock will hurry up.
I was doing the same, nudging my mouse like that might somehow trick my brain into being productive again. The weekly report sat on my screen, untouched since lunch. I needed to wrap it up, but all I could think about was dinner and escape.
And then—ping.
Kenji [4:49 PM]:
Let's get grilled meat after work. I need emotional support and validation.
Followed by a GIF of a cat aggressively chewing on yakitori.
I cracked a smile and glanced over my monitor. Kenji was already looking at me from across the aisle, giving me the most dumb-looking puppy eyes he could manage. I shook my head, trying not to laugh, and looked back at my phone.
Another message popped up.
Lin [4:50 PM]:
I'm in. Long week. I could use something salty.
It took me a beat too long to reply. I was rereading her message, not that there was anything inherently special about it. But it was her.
Me [4:51 PM]:
Sounds good. I'm in too.
As soon as I hit send, I stared at the screen. Did that come off too stiff? Should I have used an emoji? What's the adult male version of sounding casual without sounding too into it?
Kenji [4:52 PM]:
BOOM. LET'S GOOOOO. I promise it's my treat... unless I get zero emotional support, in which case you're all paying.
Kayla [4:53 PM]:
Fine.
Luis [4:55 PM]:
maybe
Which, coming from Luis, meant: "Yes, but I'll show up late and leave early with a ginger ale."
Kenji picked a yakitori place hidden in a side alley near the station. We had to weave past crates and duck under paper lanterns just to get inside. The air was thick with grilled meat and smoke, and the warmth hit as soon as we stepped through the door.
"Welcome, friends! Sit wherever you'd like!" the chef called out, voice booming but cheerful.
We nodded back and pushed two tiny tables together. The benches creaked beneath us. Knees bumped. Conversations started rolling.
Kenji didn't waste a second. He slumped into his seat next to Kayla and jumped into his story from the night before. "Okay, so picture this. We met up at this artsy little bar downtown. She shows up wearing a cloak. A legit cloak. Not a jacket. Not a scarf. A full, flowing, maybe-enchanted cloak."
Lin raised her eyebrows. "Was she a cosplayer or something?"
"No. She told me she was a 'spiritual wanderer of the new plane,'" Kenji said, deadpan. "I asked if that meant she was into astrology. She said astrology was 'for conformists.'"
We started laughing, but he kept going.
"Anyway, we ordered drinks. She insists on kombucha cocktails. Halfway through her second glass, she leans in and says, 'Do you feel your aura vibrating yet?' I told her no. And then, and I swear to god, she pulls out a triangle. Like, a musical triangle. From her cloak. And starts playing it to 'awaken my vibrations.'"
Luis actually wheezed. That was probably the loudest noise I'd ever heard from him.
"And then," Kenji said, dragging the words out for dramatic effect, "Sapphire, that was her name, by the way, tries to recruit me into selling crystals. Like, pyramid-scheme crystals. With bonus tiers."
Kayla wiped her eyes, laughing. "You went on a date with a pyramid scheme wizard."
"I did. And I tipped her triangle player. Out of sheer existential confusion."
Lin was laughing so hard she had to set her skewer down. I couldn't stop smiling. Kenji had a gift for turning minor life disasters into sitcom gold.
"So," I asked between bites of grilled mushrooms, "what'd you learn from all this?"
He raised his skewer like a sword. "No more spiritual plane dates unless I bring a backup triangle…That or wear a Himmel cosplay since she was trying to be Great Value Frieren."
The table cracked up again.
As more plates landed and the steam fogged up our glasses, I noticed how everyone had started to loosen up. Kayla, who barely talked at work beyond sharp, efficient comments, was now going on about her cat's obsession with green beans. Luis, who usually kept to nods and shrugs, started explaining how he restores vintage radios on weekends.
Lin kept leaning forward, listening intently to everyone. She had this way of making people feel heard, like what they were saying mattered more than anything else. Her laughter came in soft waves, warm and spontaneous.
"Here," she said to me, handing over another skewer. "This one's glazed with plum miso. Weird, but it works."
"I trust your judgment," I said, and then immediately questioned why I made it sound so formal.
She laughed. "You say that like I'm a food oracle or something."
"Well, you did bring us here."
She chuckled. "That was Kenji. I'm just along for the ride."
I watched her fingers brush a strand of hair behind her ear. I never realized how expressive her eyes were until she wasn't behind a screen.
Eventually, people started peeling off. Kayla got a call and left early. Luis vanished with a quiet "see you." Kenji clapped me on the shoulder and, in his half-drunken state, whispered, "Don't blow it, Romeo," before disappearing toward the station with a goofy grin.
And just like that, it was just me and Lin.
We sat there for a while in the soft buzz of the restaurant, sipping the last of our drinks. The place is quieter now except for the chef tidying up. The lanterns above flickered slightly, casting a soft glow on the table.
"I really needed tonight," she said, her voice lower now. "It's been... one of those weeks."
"Yeah. Work's been heavy lately."
She gave a small nod. "Not just work. Life stuff. My roommate's moving out. My aunt keeps asking why I'm still single. That kind of thing."
There was a pause. Then I asked, a bit too quickly, "You don't have a boyfriend?"
She blinked.
I wanted to melt into the pavement. "I mean- sorry, that came out weird. I wasn't trying to- like, it's fine if you do, I was just curious- not for any reason, just, you know, conversation and-"
Lin burst out laughing.
Not a polite chuckle. A real, shoulders-shaking, hand-covering-her-mouth laugh.
She looked at me, eyes still bright. "No. I don't."
I nodded furiously, trying to seem cool. "That's cool. I mean, you know. Cool cool."
"You're cute when you panic," she said, grinning.
I froze. My brain short-circuited at the word "cute."
Before I could reply, she added, "Thanks for walking with me."
Outside, the street was quiet. Neon signs had softened to a slow, pulsing glow. We walked side by side toward the station, footsteps steady and unhurried.
"Hey," she said, just before we parted ways. "For what it's worth... I was wondering the same about you."
Then she waved, spun, and disappeared down the stairs to her train.
I stood there for a second, heart hammering like I'd run a race I didn't realize I was in.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn't mind that tomorrow was a workday.