#88 | Instead of the word "It's okay"

My afternoon self felt somehow strange.

The heavy stone stuck deep in my chest had not yet completely peeled away.
The manager's gaze, the office queen's silence, and the shadow of yesterday's mistake were all still there.
And yet, somewhere in my heart, a small spark remained.
It was gently warm.
But it also hurt a little.
It felt like having hot water suddenly poured over frozen hands.

The source of that spark was what S-san had said to me in the morning.
"You were doing it properly, weren't you, [Name]?"
"I was watching."
Those words gently stroked the weak parts of me.
Every time anxiety reared its head, S-san's face would appear.
His voice would come to mind.
That slightly lowered tone echoed quietly deep in my chest.

I realized something.

That I was currently trying to lean on his kindness.
Seeking salvation in someone's understanding.
Placing my weight on someone's words.
Even though it was something I should normally be wary of, it looked terribly attractive to me right now.
People who are tired are weak to kindness.
And I was more tired than I had realized.

The chime for the end of the workday rang.
The atmosphere in the sales department loosened just a little.
The sound of computers closing, chairs being pulled back, someone's idle chatter.
The relaxed air peculiar to the end of the day began to flow.
Suddenly, a shadow fell beside my desk.
I knew before I even looked up.
It was that scent.
A slightly sweet, clean, woody fragrance.
"...You seemed to be worrying about it for a while."
Not blaming, not encouraging, just a voice that sounded like it was confirming a fact.
I looked up involuntarily.

S-san was leaning over slightly, looking at me.

I was not good with that gaze.
Because it was kind.
The gaze of a kind person is sometimes cruel.
I felt like he could see through even the parts I wanted him to pretend not to see.
"Would you like to walk a bit on the way home?"
"Maybe grab a coffee to clear your head."
It was so natural.
It was so natural that I couldn't think of a reason to refuse.
In fact, going home alone was scarier.
If I went home, I would just end up overthinking things again.
I wanted time where I didn't have to think.
I wanted someone to tell me "It's okay."
"...Yes."
Before I knew it, I had answered.

It was a voice so honest it surprised even me.
What am I looking for?
That question remained quietly swaying in the back of my throat, never becoming words.