The morning began earlier than I'd planned.
Aveline dropped by at 7:10 AM, was literally unannounced but not unwelcome. We sat on the balcony, talking about everything and nothing—her latest painting, my half-baked idea of visiting Solene's shop, the way mornings feel heavier when you haven't slept well.
By 9:43 AM, she left with a hug and a promise to text later. I glanced at my phone. No new messages. No missed calls. Just the ticking clock and the creeping realization that I hadn't logged into work yet.
It was 10:47 AM when I finally checked the time.
My manager usually calls in around 11 to check on progress, and I hadn't even logged into Zoom yet.
The note from Solene was still tucked in my wallet, like a secret I wasn't ready to share with the world.
I stared at my laptop, the screen still dark, my fingers hovering over the keys.
I whispered to myself, "Okay, Kaia. Work mode."
I opened Zoom, toggled my status to "Available," and launched the shared documentation file.
My assigned colleague for the week, Ocean, had already left a few comments on the draft.
She was efficient, direct, and had a knack for catching typos that slipped past me.
We started chatting in the team thread:
Ocean: "Hey Kaia, just flagged a few sections in the doc. Can we finalize the meeting schedule today?"
Me: "On it. Will send out invites after lunch. Thanks for the notes!"
I copied the schedule from our tracker and began placing Zoom links into calendar invites. It was mechanical, but grounding. The kind of task that didn't require emotional bandwidth—focus.
Just as I was about to hit "Send" on the final calendar invite, my phone buzzed again. Taimi. Then Bumble. Then HER. I blinked. A triple ding. The lesbian dating apps had apparently formed a union and decided to collectively sabotage my productivity.
I facepalmed. Every time I'm knee-deep in work, they light up like a Pride parade. But when I'm free—when I'm actually open to chatting—they ghost me like it's a sport.
I glanced at the screen.
Taimi: "Hey Kaia 😊 love your profile pic. Wanna grab coffee sometime?"
Bumble: A new match. She sent a selfie with the caption: "This is me pretending to work. You?"
HER: A voice message. I hesitated, then tapped play. "Hey! You seem super chill. I'm off today and wondering if you're around. I make killer iced matcha if you're into that."
I stared at the phone like it had betrayed me. I was supposed to be working. Ocean was waiting for the finalized schedule. My manager was probably already glancing at the clock, prepping for the 11:30 check-in.
But curiosity won. I opened the apps. Just a sneak.
Five minutes later, I was deep in profile photos, voice notes, and trying to remember if I'd responded to the girl who said she liked my "energy." I hadn't. I was too busy pretending to be productive.
I toggled back to Zoom.
Ocean had added another comment.
Ocean: "Also, can we move the Thursday sync to 3 PM? I have a dentist appointment."
I replied quickly:
Me: "Sure thing. Hope it's not one of those evil root canals."
Then I toggled back to Bumble. The match with the selfie had sent another message: "Okay, but seriously, how do you stay focused working from home? I just reorganized my spice rack instead of answering emails."
I laughed. Out loud. Because the same.
I realized I hadn't had caffeine. That explained the spiral. I needed coffee. Immediately. I sprinted to the kitchen, threw a pod into the machine, and stared at it like it owed me answers.
The apps dinged again.
HER this time. Another voice note.
"I'm heading out soon, but if you're free later, I'll be at the boardwalk. No pressure."
I took a deep breath. The coffee was ready. I grabbed the mug, returned to my desk, and toggled back to Zoom just in time.
The Zoom call blinked to life. My manager's face appeared, cheerful but clearly caffeinated.
"Morning, Kaia! How's everything going?" I smiled, sipped my coffee, and gave the rundown.
"Schedule's finalized. Ocean flagged a few edits; I've adjusted Thursday's sync. All invites sent."
No mention of dating apps. No mention of matcha offers or spice rack confessions. Just the version of me that fits neatly into a meeting agenda.
The call ended. I exhaled. The coffee helped. The apps were still buzzing, but I muted them. For now.
Because being side-tracked while working just sucks. It's like trying to read a book while someone keeps tossing glitter at your face. Distracting, sparkly, and mildly infuriating.
I closed the apps. I reopened the documentation file. Work mode. Again.
I reopened the documentation file and scanned through the remaining sections. A few headers still needed formatting, and the "Deployment Dependencies" list was missing the updated vendor timelines.
I pulled up the vendor spreadsheet, copied the revised dates, and pasted them into the doc. It felt good to see the pieces coming together—like stitching a quilt from scattered patches.
I toggled to my email again. Ravi had responded.
Subject: Re: Weekly Work Assignments
Hey Kaia, Sorry for the delay—just sent my section. Let me know if it needs tweaks. —Ravi
I downloaded his attachment, skimmed through it, and dropped it into the master document. Ocean hadn't replied yet, so I added a placeholder note: "Pending input from Ocean– ETA unknown."
I checked the time. 2:07 PM. The stakeholder sync slides were next. I opened the template, duplicated last quarter's deck, and began updating the metrics.
I pulled numbers from our analytics dashboard: user retention, feature adoption, and bug resolution rates.
I added a few charts, color-coded the trends, and inserted Ocean's summary from last week's report.
Then I hit a snag.
The slide on "Client Feedback" was blank. I remembered that Theo had compiled the feedback log from our support tickets. I pinged him on Viber:
"Hey, Theo, do you have the client feedback summary handy? Need it for the Friday deck."
He replied within minutes: "Just emailed it. Let me know if you want it condensed."
I opened the file, extracted the key points—positive notes on UI improvements, recurring requests for mobile optimization—and dropped them into the slide.
I added a bullet: "Mobile enhancements scheduled for Q1 2026."
I paused.
The note from Solene was still in my wallet. I hadn't decided if I'd visit the shop. But I wasn't ready to think about that yet.