You do not love him. You love not being on the floor for five minutes. Attraction at work is often just nicer office lighting really.
Tag: warehouse
Mirror app, bad light, someone watching. That is the commute. Warehouse to a night out, carriage as dressing room. This city gives you no pause.
Same number waiting. Still I open the app again. Hope is a stupid habit. So is thinking some random transfer is about to appear tonight.
Date night maths in this city is unhinged. We sat down already behind. London charges you for arriving. Then it charges you for leaving too.
I stand there doing maths like it is romance. London will charge you for lunch and still call it a deal. I laugh. I pay.
Bags by the door, uniform waiting, that low familiar dread. Even if the weekend was messy, the Monday reset feels like being marched straight back.
Good coat, dead eyes, phone already out. I do it too. The city rewards looking sorted. It never even asks if you even slept tonight.
I tell myself the promotion ends the tight feeling for good. It will help. It will not make me suddenly wise on a Friday night.
New lip, decent coat, nails done before the shift. Nobody has to know the account. Looking costly is the cheapest kind of rich available really.
Warehouse face off, night face on, sometimes both in one single day. This city lets you be two people if your makeup bag keeps up.