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>It’s a standard day, just like any other, and you’ve just arrived at the office.
>You go through your usual pre-work routine before settling into your designated cubicle. Everything seems normal, except for one unusual sight.
>Ouro Kronii.
>Kronii is one of the lucky few employees who work remotely, rarely stepping foot in the office. And it shows.
>She’s clearly uncomfortable in office attire. Her suit is unironed, her heels are loose, and she struggles to navigate the cramped spaces between cubicles. Even a simple "good morning" comes out in stutters. Her awkward smile and twitching eyes make it obvious this is not her natural habitat.
>So you ask yourself, what is she even doing here?
>Company-wide meetings are the only reason remote workers ever need to show up, but as far as you know, there isn’t one today. And she’s the only WFH employee here.
>"G-Go... good morning, sir."
>Her voice snaps you out of your thoughts. She can barely make eye contact as she hands you a small piece of paper. You take it and slip it into your pocket.
>"Y-you d-don’t need to read it now. It’s nothing of ma-ma-major importance," she says, fidgeting with a lock of her hair, her gaze darting around the room.
>Then, she moves on. You watch as she hands out the same navy-blue slips to every single employee. You want to read it now, but the towering pile of paperwork on your desk says otherwise.
>Eventually, after delivering the last note, she awkwardly walks out of the building. You catch the hint of a relieved sigh as she steps through the door.
>And just like that, you go back to work, quickly forgetting about the girl who had been the center of your curiosity only moments ago.
>After a long day, you finally head home.
>As you undress, preparing for a shower, something slips out of your pocket and falls to the floor, a crumpled piece of paper.
>It looks like some kind of poorly written invite.
>The handwriting is messy, and tiny wet spots make it even harder to read. But one line at the bottom stands out clearly:
>"You're free to come to my birthday party today at 7 PM!"
>Her address is listed, surprisingly close to the office but far from your apartment.
>You check the clock, it's 6 PM already.
>Without wasting time, you jump into the shower, put on something decent, and head out. Along the way, you manage to buy a simple gift: a blue analog clock with silicone limbs and a top hat. You heard she likes silly things like that.
>By the time you arrive, it’s already 8 PM. You didn’t want to be late, but this was the earliest you could make it.
>You knock.
>No party sounds.
>Only... crying.
>When Kronii opens the door, her eyes are red and puffy. She forces a small smile and thanks you for coming.
>Inside, there’s no sign of a celebration, just an empty room and a lonely girl.
>Seeing your confused expression, she lets out a dry laugh and explains. "You’re the only one who came. Everyone else ignored me or made up some excuse."
>She wipes her tears and disappears into the kitchen, returning with a homemade strawberry cake.
>"I baked this myself... do you want a piece?" she asks, voice trembling.
>You take a bite.
>It tastes awful.
>Still, you try to fake a smile, telling her it’s good as you hand over your gift. She accepts it, but she sees right through your lie.
>"I know it’s bad. You don’t have to pretend."
>Her gaze drops to the floor.
>"I can never do anything right, after all..."
>Then, without warning, she buries her face against your chest. The muffled sound of her crying soaks into your now-wet shirt.
>You hesitate before wrapping your arms around her, gently resting a hand on her head.
>"It’s okay."
>You try to pull away, but she clings tighter.
>"...But it’s fine," she whispers. "At least it’s better than last year, because... I have someone with me now."
>She looks up at you.
>"Could we stay like this for a little longer?"
>You don’t answer. You don’t need to.
>Your arms remain where they are, and in that moment, you see no reason why you couldn't stay like this forever.
