The Third Person in the Break Room

At three in the afternoon, the break room. The coffee machine hums. Lao Zhou comes in with a mug, a chip on its rim. He stands beside me, waiting for the water to boil. When it boils, he turns off the switch and says, "Do you think Director Zhang is sick? The proposal has been revised eight times, and it's back to the first version."

I don't answer. He says again, "I got home at eleven last night. My daughter was already asleep. She's six. This morning she asked me, Dad, do you not like me?" He laughs. The corners of his mouth turn down.

I nod. My face does the work. My mind is on the proposal. Fifteen minutes later, Lao Zhou leaves. The proposal is unfinished. There's a coffee stain on my keyboard cover.

Later I learn to ask one question: "Do you want me to listen first, or do you want to think it through together?" That sentence is a door. Some people come in. Some people leave.

Lao Zhou is the habitual type. When there's no project, he complains about being idle. When there is one, he complains about being tired. If he doesn't work overtime, he says there's no future. If he does, he says life is bitter. He doesn't come to me for a solution. He comes so I can be a wall. I give him fifteen minutes. He talks. I look at my watch. When time is up, I say, "I have to submit something at ten." He waves his hand. "Go, go, you're busy." Next time he comes again.

Ajie corners me in the stairwell. He lowers his voice. "That proposal from Director Zhang. Don't you also think it's unreasonable?" I say, "I don't know the full background." He steps closer. "Just say it. Yes or no?" I smell smoke on him. I say, "What exactly is the part you're stuck on?" He freezes. He says, "Everyone feels this way." I say, "Then get everyone to sign a joint letter." He leaves. The next day, Director Zhang says at the meeting, "Some people don't bring up their opinions face to face, but behind people's backs they form cliques." I look at Ajie. Ajie looks at the table. My name isn't said. I know I almost became an ally.

Xiaolin comes over carrying her laptop, a spreadsheet on the screen. "Last Wednesday's data. I've checked it three times, and it's still wrong. Can you help me look?" She points to the third row. There's a formula there. I pull over a chair and sit down. We check it together. Half an hour later, we find it. She says thank you. The next day, she brings a box of strawberries. She says, "I'm treating you." I say, "Next time just send it to me. No need to be polite." After that she only changes the way she asks for help, not the problem itself. She's worth helping. Help once, and you can test whether it's real.

Sister Wang asks me in the print room, "What do you think of the new Director Li?" I say, "I haven't had much contact with him." She says, "I heard he and Director Zhang don't get along." I take the printed paper. The paper jams. I open the cover and pull out the torn pieces. I say, "It's not convenient for me to comment on this." She laughs. "You're really cautious." I say, "The printer is broken. I have to fix it." She leaves. I throw the torn paper into the trash.

Quarterly awards. I'm not selected. Director Zhang calls me in. He says, "Someone reported that you have emotions toward the team." I ask, "Who?" He says, "That's not important." I sit in the chair. My fingers dig into the seam of my pants. I know Ajie passed the word. I didn't take sides, but I listened. Listening is also participation. I go home. Two pothos leaves have turned yellow. I water it. Water leaks from the bottom of the pot and drips onto the floor. I wipe it with a rag. After wiping, I sit on the sofa. My stomach hurts a little. I look for stomach medicine. The box is empty. I crush the empty box and throw it into the trash.

The next day, I go to work. The break room is still at three. Lao Zhou is still there. Ajie smokes in the stairwell. Sister Wang is in the print room. I pass by without stopping. I get water and go back to my desk. The coffee stain on the keyboard cover has dried. I wipe it with a wet wipe. It doesn't come off. I change the keyboard cover.

I set a timer. Fifteen minutes a day. When it rings, I withdraw. No lunch alone with anyone. No late-night WeChat replies. No long receptions at my desk. Someone says I'm cold. I nod. Cold is better than tired.

Later Lao Zhou comes to me again. He says, "Do you think the company is going to collapse?" I say, "I have to submit something at ten." He says, "Just five minutes." I say, "Two minutes." He talks for a minute and a half. I point at the screen. He leaves. I hear him go back to his desk and say to the person next to him, "People these days are all selfish." I don't look back. I save the proposal. Ctrl+S. The time in the lower right corner of the screen jumps.

Xiaolin sends the data. I reply, "Received. We'll check this afternoon." She replies, "Okay." No emoji. That's good.

Ajie meets me in the hallway. He says, "That thing last time..." I say, "Which thing?" He says, "Never mind." I say, "Okay." We pass each other. The smell of smoke on him is fainter.

Sister Wang says in the break room, "Director Li wore that jacket today. He looks like he's going fishing." I don't respond. I wash my cup. Water runs over the wall of the cup. Foam spins once and flows into the drain. I turn off the water. I put the cup upside down on the rack.

When it's time to leave, I push my chair back under the desk. Lao Zhou's cup is still in the break room, the chip facing the window. I pick up my bag. The elevator comes. I get in. The doors close.

The next day, three in the afternoon. The break room. The coffee machine hums. I hold my cup. Lao Zhou comes in. He opens his mouth. I look at my watch. I say, "Ten minutes." He says, "Enough." He talks. I listen. After ten minutes, I raise my hand. He stops. I say, "See you tomorrow." He says, "See you tomorrow." I go back to my desk. The keyboard cover is new. Sunlight falls on it. There's a little dust. I blow on it. The dust rises, then falls again.

I open the proposal. The cursor blinks. I start typing.