Glen’s hand’s shook nervously. The telephone operator’s role gnawed at him. That was not surprising – he had been on it for only a few hours. And it was an unusual one. He connected voices, but held onto none. His ears were for others, though others never offered theirs. Home was for voices to pass, not stay.
✨📞✨📞✨📞✨📞✨
Then, a line opened, before it was supposed to. A soft click. An uneven breath. A voice arrived – that should not have existed. With something missing.
✨📞✨📞✨📞✨📞✨
Glen listened. He paused. He remained still. What would it mean to be heard? Across time? Across space? The line hummed. It asked for nothing. But offered everything.
✨📞✨📞✨📞✨📞✨
The console buzzed. He spoke into it, almost a whisper. His voice melded with the one on the line. It was hesitant. Almost careful. Time froze, for just a second.
✨📞✨📞✨📞✨📞✨
Glen broke out of his reverie. It struck him. There was only one voice. Rounded. Undiminished There was no second speaker. No awkward pause. No him.
✨📞✨📞✨📞✨📞✨
He glared sharply at the console before him. To connect, and not be connected? An unseen hand, bringing lines together? Him in silence, and the world, in a cacophony of sound/ He breathed. He would not be thanked. But he WAS the console. The connection.
He fiddled with the volume knob on the console before him and sighed. More connections to be made. They spoke. They listened. They were heard.
Glen remained with them, listening in silence.
✨📞✨📞✨📞✨📞✨
Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.
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Today is Tomb Sweeping Day, a day to mark by remembering ancestors.
People remember the lessons from loved ones who have passed.
Some lessons only make sense when they are meant for you.
🧽🔥🍊
Dusting the gravestone
Wiping sweat, dripping off cheek
As incense burns.
Cleaning, tidying.
Cleaning, tidying.
Glancing at the digital clock –
On his mobile phone.
🧽🔥🍊
Dusting, sweeping.
Dusting, sweeping.
Arranging offerings with no glance.
Lights incense –
Without seeing
Father’s name.
🧽🔥🍊
Tidying, moving. Tidying, moving.
The next gravestone.
“Whose is it’
Mom answers –
Meant for you.
🧽🔥🍊
Tidying.
Dusting.
Tidying.
Dusting.
Cloth wipes. Stone gleams.
Offers.
Himself.
🧽🔥🍊
Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.
If you like this story, do join me on Patreon! Buy this blog a coffee — it keeps the words flowing and the lights Your kind donation via Paypal would be greatly appreciated!
If you like this story, do join me on Patreon! Buy this blog a coffee — it keeps the words flowing and the lights Your kind donation via Paypal would be greatly appreciated!
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Secretary Evelyn Tan’s head snapped towards the clock on the wall, mid-task. She still had a few sentences to type.
5:55 p.m. Almost the end of the day.
Everyone was ready. It was time.
She shut down the computer. As usual. The mail. One last time. As usual. Worked the copier.
As usual.
At 5:55 p.m. Packing. Moving chairs. Packing. Moving chairs. Facing the door together.
The Silent Stare.
There were five minutes left.
6 p.m. Chairs moved in. Scraping the floor in tandem.
Click.
Click.
No one needed to look at that clock.
They knew.
6 p.m. It was time.
They left.
🕔 ⏳ 🪑 🚶♂️ 🚪
The next day. The same emails. The same computer.
Evelyn typed diligently, exactly 135 words per minute, on the minute.
5:55 p.m. Monica, her best friend at the office, came by her desk.
“Hey. Time to leave.” She tilted her head to the clock. It was almost time.
Evelyn stared at the manager’s office, then at the computer screen in front of her.
“The documents will have to wait.” She gestured to the list of office compliances pasted on the magnetic whiteboard in front of the manager’s office.
“The doors.” Monica gestured to the swing doors with an autolock system. They were ready. “We should go.”
Monica gave the wall clock a quick, furtive glance.
5:55 p.m. Everyone stood in a single motion. Everyone headed for the door.
🕔 ⏳ 🪑 🚶♂️ 🚪
Everyone, that is, except Evelyn, who stayed to finish just the last two sentences of an email she needed to send out the next day.
Listening wasn’t her strong suit. Her fingers continued to tap the keyboard. That email had to go out.
And the lights were impatient. So was the system- it closed without prompting.
The building knew it was time.
And it knew that – too well.
Click.
The sound of doors shutting.
It went from full to empty in a matter of minutes.
🕔 ⏳ 🪑 🚶♂️ 🚪
Everyone, that is, except Evelyn, who stayed to finish just the last two sentences of an email she needed to send out the next day.
Listening wasn’t her strong suit. Her fingers continued to tap the keyboard. That email had to go out.
The lights flickered. The system began to shut down- it closed without prompting.
6 p.m. The air conditioning went off. Click. The sound of doors shutting. It was going from full to empty in a matter of minutes.
🕔 ⏳ 🪑 🚶♂️ 🚪
Then, she remembered.
The colleagues who didn’t show up for work. There was never an explanation for them.
There was no furore. No needless investigation.
The disappearances. Those who paused after 6 did not remain. They weren’t random.
Those who followed the rule left easily. Those who didn’t –
Stayed.
She had an idea. One she latched onto quickly as her colleagues walked through the shutting doors. “Remember Alvin Leong?” The name entered the room and found no place to stop.
An immediate pause in the conversation.
Not a word. They continued, in a quick, single file.
🕔 ⏳ 🪑 🚶♂️ 🚪
Evelyn listened – but to her need to complete the email on hand.
The building’s alarm system sounded. Too loud.
6 p.m.
The email was deleted without instruction. The task list in front of her began to erase.
Her name card disappeared from her desk. Her name vanished from the email BCC loop.
The alarm system continued to sound.
Then, her chair wasn’t there. Neither were the pens and pencils on her desk.
The computer disappeared altogether.
She occupied less space. Her presence no longer needed acknowledgement.
She stood up and walked quickly to the door. It shut.
Holding her in.
🕔 ⏳ 🪑 🚶♂️ 🚪
There was a new girl in the office. She ambled over to Evelyn’s desk.
She walked over to Monica.
“Is there anything…” The question hovered.
Monica didn’t respond. She clearly recognised the question.
Work continued.
5:55 p.m. Almost the end of the day.
6 p.m. Chairs moved in. Scraping the floor in tandem.
Click.
Click.
No one needed to look at that clock.
They knew. They followed the rule.
6 p.m. It was time.
They left.
All except the new girl.
🕔 ⏳ 🪑 🚶♂️ 🚪
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Some discrepancies are corrected. Others are erased.
📦📊
The warehouse – my domain. It’s where I log incoming and outgoing items with precision.
My unchallenged accuracy is needed here. I log incoming and outgoing items with a simple “beep” and a red flash.
Then I sort them where they should go. There are categories for everything. Absolutely everything.
Anything that can be counted. All that’s needed is a label.
Some units do not sync with their labels.Then abnormalities.
Next shipment: A name.
Return status: Pending.
Next shipment: A name.
Return status: Pending.
Next shipment: A name.
Returln status: Pending.
Next shipment: A name
Return status: –
Expiry dates passed, but still stayed within the inventory.
Then I failed to categorize.
I stopped on one unit.
She remained within my range longer than the required thirty seconds.
A she. She shifted. Uncomfortable.
Gentle, almost undetectable murmurs.
My system couldn’t read this.
I reclassified. Sudden shifts.
To murmur.
Louder.
And LOUDER.
I categorized. Error: classification invalid.
I categorized. Error: classification invalid.
I categorized. Error: classification invalid.
Correction attempt: Denied.
And she moved. And moved.
No one viewed my monitor.
System updated successfully.
All irregularities resolved.
She disappeared.
System health: Check.
A record: Item 123456. For sale.
Where she was.
I record what comes. I do not ask.
Inventory now accurate.
No discrepancies remain.
All items accounted for.
📦📊
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We celebrate big victories on stage on World Theatre Day.
Big actions. Huge performances.
Not the small ones.
They pass unnoticed.
Holding a fork is quieter.
🍽️🤲🍴⏳💫🤍
To hold a fork.
Timeless.
Rare.
Precious, muted steel
🍽️🤲🍴⏳💫🤍
I grasp.
It drops.
I reach.
It drops.
I grasp –
Five seconds
It drops.
🍽️🤲🍴⏳💫🤍
They glare.
The fallen fork shines.
Not the grasp.
🍽️🤲🍴⏳💫🤍
Fallen fork –
Glistens.
Grasping hand –
Dulled.
Aches.
🍽️🤲🍴⏳💫🤍
Unseen.
🍽️🤲🍴⏳💫🤍
Then lifts
Fingers clenched.
Firm.
Fork clutched.
🍽️🤲🍴⏳💫🤍
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Some calls are returned when it’s already too late to answer.
📱🎙️🕊️⏳💔
Hey, mum. It’s Selena. This must be the 47th voicemail I’ve recorded. The recordings are all for you, even after all you have done. I know you tried to call me yesterday. Don’t worry, I never deleted any. They are available, recorded before my time ran out.
📱🎙️🕊️⏳💔
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